


when there's fire in my woods it burns me and nobody else

by Oripoke



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon!Lalli, Dragons, Dreamwalking, Gratuitous overuse of fire metaphors, Ha ha slow burn do you get it, Illustrated, M/M, Magic, Slow Burn, Swords, medieval era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2020-01-14 12:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 94,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18476692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oripoke/pseuds/Oripoke
Summary: Dragons are monsters.That’s what Emil has been told ever since he became a Cleanser in the King’s Army. When a dragon attacks the remote military outpost at Keuruu, he is assigned there on a mission to slay it. There, Emil meets several strange characters, including a mysterious young man who keeps appearing in his dreams. In his quest to slay the dragon, Emil begins to question what the Army has taught him, wondering if dragons really are as monstrous as they say…





	1. Waves

**Author's Note:**

> *Waves* Hi people!
> 
> Do you ever join a new fandom, and then suddenly you black out and wake up in a haze, 15,000 words into an epic AU fanfic about dragons? No? Just me then. All right.  
> I was so captured by the setting, characters, and story of [Stand Still Stay Silent](http://www.sssscomic.com/) that I wanted to tribute this incredible work as best I could. All characters and story elements borrowed from canon are thanks to the talented and visionary Minna. I'm just along for the ride, same as the rest of us.
> 
> If you're coming over from my other works, thanks for giving this story a chance. As an Alternate Universe, it should be accessible to those who aren't as familiar with the source canon. Of course, I recommend everyone check out SSSS anyway, because it's really great.
> 
> This story is set in an Alternate Universe with medieval-ish technology. The basic story concept was 99% inspired by Minna's artwork of [dragon!Lalli and dragonslayer Emil](http://www.sssscomic.com/mainimages/art/dragon_hunt.jpg). (That art can serve as a reference for these characters' appearances in this fic.)
> 
> The title of this fic (and the name of the first chapter) comes from the song [Wave(s) by Lewis Del Mar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aN9kKAyk1-w).
> 
> I think that's it. Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

**Prologue**  


-*-*-*-

Silence surrounds the military outpost at Keuruu, the soldiers stationed there having long since retreated to bed in their barracks. A single pinprick of light flickers between the densely packed trees in the forest, the last embers of that evening's bonfire simmering down to a low glow. The night hangs, undisturbed and silent, without even a slim crescent moon to banish the shadows.

In this darkness, muffled wingbeats trouble the still air. A dark shape, silhouetted against the stars, glides sinuously through the sky. The cold breeze of the upper atmosphere ruffles the fur on its back. It searches the land below with eyes that glow with a kindled light within. Spying its target, it draws its wings in close to its body and pulls into a dive, aiming for that tiny speck of light among the trees.

As it hurtles towards the ground, it extends its wings just before it hits the earth to abruptly slow its descent. The shockwave from its wingbeats rustles the tops of trees and extinguishes the last of the fire. A few of the Keuruu soldiers turn over in their beds, troubled by a peculiar dream.

The creature alights on the roof of the tallest cabin. Its claws cut into the thatch roof and its tail wraps around the sides of the building. The slit pupils in its glowing eyes widen as it searches through the darkness, using just the stars for light. It scans the camp, the soft and deep bellow of its breath the only sound in the still night.

The creature's eyes train upwards. A flagpole stands above the Keuruu gate, the flags hanging limp with no wind. With one flap of its wings, a breeze whooshes through the camp and unfurls the flag of the Kingdom of Scania.

Its pupils narrow to slits and the rumbling in its chest grows louder. Its mouth opens, lips curled back in a snarl, and a bright light begins to glow at the back of its throat. There is a soft _click_ and then white-hot flames fountain out of the creature's mouth, striking the flag atop the pole and immolating it instantly. The creature snorts, spewing embers from its nostrils, and then spits another concentrated blast of fire onto a boat moored at the docks. With a flap of its wings, it takes to the skies again, spewing flames even as it propels itself into the air, igniting the roof of the building it had previously stood.

Now shouts start to emanate from the barracks and people begin spilling out. Fingers point to the silver-grey shape of the creature that hovers above, lit by the flames below.

"Dragon!" One soldier screams.

"Shoot it down!" orders another.

A crossbow bolt sails over the dragon's shoulder, just missing its wing as it swoops down low over the camp for a second pass. A line of fire burns in its wake as it scorches the ground beneath.

One soldier hurls a spear in its direction and manages to put a nick in its flank, drawing blood. The dragon pulls into the air sharply and circles overhead, swiftly weaving between each projectile as it continues its fiery onslaught.

More and more soldiers begin running to the docks, dredging up buckets of water to use in putting out the fires that tear through the camp, hungrily devouring all in their path.

The dragon pivots in midair to face the soldiers in the camp down below. Flames gather between its jaws as it expels a massive fireball, which falls like a meteor from the sky, colliding with the armory and setting everything within it ablaze.

Then, with another thunderous clap of wings, the dragon launches itself upwards, far beyond the treetops and out of range of the soldiers' bows. It propels itself up, up into the wispy clouds and out of sight, leaving only the screaming, smoldering chaos of Keuruu behind.

 

-*-*-*-

**Chapter One: Waves**

-*-*-*-

 

The transport ship lurches as it runs aground, and Emil jerks awake with a start. A signal horn blows, announcing their arrival. The door to the below-deck bunks slams open, as the other passengers, soldiers, and sailors flurry into action to prepare for disembarkment.

Emil swings his legs down from the claustrophobic bunk where he's been holed up. His back aches from three days spent sleeping on the hard wooden platform. Between the discomfort, the complete lack of privacy, and the perpetual seasickness, he can't wait to get off this godforsaken boat and onto solid ground again. A year serving in the King's Army hasn't been enough to strip him of his cravings for finer things, like clean bedding, edible food, and the occasional bath.

He takes the book he'd been reading -- his only one, a tattered anthology of traditional Scanian poems -- and slips it into his rucksack. Then he sets to work putting on his soldier's uniform and making himself look presentable. His sword, in its sheath, hangs on his belt with a heavy weight he is still getting used to. He moves slowly, hoping that by the time he actually shows his face outside, all the necessary chores will be completed and he can avoid having to do any work himself.

Not so. A person wearing a beat-up Captain's uniform and brilliant scarlet hair pokes her head into the sleeping quarters and notices him immediately.

"Västerström! Trying to shirk off your duties again?"

Emil stands at attention immediately. "No, Sigrun."

"That's _Captain_ Sigrun to you, soldier," she says loftily. "We've arrived at Keuruu. Time to show these locals we mean business. That means pulling your own weight, and obeying my every command! Understood?"

"Yessir."

Sigrun nods. "At ease," she says. Then her stoic expression fades into a grin and she slugs Emil in one arm. It hurts more than he cares to admit, but he keeps his face composed. "Only messing with ya, kid. But seriously, we can't afford to show weakness. This isn't Scania anymore. These forest-people are wily. Be on your guard, lest they trick you with their heathen magics."

Emil rolls his eyes and slings his satchel over his shoulder. "Right. Thanks for the warning, Captain."

"I'm serious! Disregard my words at your own peril," Sigrun says, her arms crossed over her chest as Emil makes to leave the room. As he steps across the threshold, she calls out to him, "And don't you roll your eyes at me, soldier!"

Stepping out onto the deck of the boat, Emil shields his face from the sunlight and looks out at Keuruu for the first time.

The outpost is, for lack of a better word, a total wreck. Most of the char and rubble has been cleared out, but he can still see blackened frames where buildings once stood. Sooty smears mar the outer walls of the few buildings that remain standing, such as the sleeping barracks and kitchens. The rest of the structures are in transition, either temporary shelters of canvas stretched over wooden frames secured by rope, or are in the midst of reconstruction.

Beyond the charred fence surrounding the camp is a no-man's-land where the trees have been felled for lumber, and past that lies the forest, dense and dark and evergreen. Above the dark woods, the stark rocky peaks of a mountain range loom on the horizon. The summer's heat is fading, with a crispness in the air hinting at the coming autumn. Emil has heard that the winters in Suomi are even harsher than those in his hometown at Östersund.

Despite the warm afternoon sun, Emil shivers. He hopes that he can finish his task before winter comes.

"Hey, you!" a voice shouts at him, and somebody shoves a heavy, canvas-wrapped bundle into his arms. "Stop standing around and make yourself useful. Go carry these supplies into the camp."

Emil stumbles under the weight of the package but rights himself. Grumbling under his breath, he carefully places one wobbly footstep after another down the gangplank, onto the docks and through the burnt archway into Keuruu.

Just past the entrance, he is hailed by a short and stocky young woman with a fluffy mop of gray hair on top of her head.

"Oh, hello! Are those supplies for us? You can leave them in the tent right here," she says brightly, wearing a smile that is way too chipper for the burnt and destroyed environment they are in. Her voice carries the peculiar, musical accent of the forest-people, so Emil assumes she must be one of the aforementioned natives.

He is suddenly overcome with an overwhelming desire to make a good first impression. He holds the canvas bag between himself and the woman in order to cover his rapidly reddening face. _Get yourself together!_ He admonishes himself. _She's just a foreigner. She doesn't know anything about you._

He stumbles into the supply tent and tries to set down the heavy bundle gently, but manages to overbalance and trip, falling on top of the bag which causes the thin canvas to tear apart and its contents to scatter in all directions. He feels something wet and unpleasant soak into his uniform. Panic and revulsion mingle in his mind as he pushes himself to his knees and looks down at his tunic, which is now sodden with what appears to be... milk? Oh, joy of joys, now it's going to smell, too...

The fluffy-haired woman pokes her head in. When she sees Emil kneeling in the center of the mess, she gasps.

"Oh my Gods! Are you okay? You aren't hurt, are you?" she asks, flitting around in concern like a tiny round bird.

Emil stifles a groan as he stands up. _Great. Just great._ Still, he tries to put on a smile as he tells her, "I'm fine. Don't worry, the, uh, milk broke my fall."

She actually laughs at that. "Well! That's good to hear, at least. And I can't imagine milk that's been on a boat for a week would be very good to drink anyway." She pauses, and leans in closer to him to study Emil more closely. He feels a blush rising to his cheeks again. She must think he's a total klutz... which, to be fair, at the moment isn't far off from the mark.

Her silent scrutiny unsettles him enough that he tries to speak up. "Uh--"

"You're wearing a soldier's uniform," she says, eyes wide as she studies him in fascination. A smile spreads across her face. "You must be Emil, right? One of the soldiers the King's army sent to help us rebuild? Oh, this is so exciting! We hardly ever get any new faces around here. And we can use all the help we can get. I heard you've got a scary captain on that boat with you too. Is she as intimidating as they say she is? Oh, I have to tell my cousin all about you, he doesn't normally like other people but maybe this time will be different, I never can tell with him."

As she excitedly babbles, Emil takes one step back, then another. He stops short of colliding with a shelf stacked high with goods. "Um, thanks..." he says, not quite sure what to say in response. Acting on instinct, he blurts out, "Your language is good. I didn't know forest-people spoke Scanian so well."

A shadow of something passes over her expression, but she brightens almost immediately. "Well, of course! This land is technically part of Scania after all, ever since I was little I've been taught how to speak it. It's important when you work for the military to be able to speak their language, right? That's what I tell my cousin, but his Scanian isn't as good. I guess I just have a knack for it." She pauses, then slaps her head on her forehead. "Oh, duh! I started rambling before I even introduced myself!"

"I-it's okay," says Emil with an uncertain smile.

The young woman gives a military salute, before reaching out her hand. "I'm Tuuri Hotakainen. Skald, craftswoman, translator, and um, just general all-purpose support and management I suppose."

Emil accepts her handshake with the hand that's not damp with milk. "Emil Västerström. Soldier of the King's army. Nice to, uh, meet you."

Tuuri smiles brightly at him and gestures for Emil to follow her outside of the tent. "Since you're going to be staying here for a while, let me give you the grand tour! Um, not that there's much to see at the moment, since... well... we're kind of in the process of rebuilding right now, as you can see." She casts a sideways glance towards one of the blackened pits that used to be a building. Only a few jagged pieces remain of its former frame, their tips reduced to charcoal.

Emil looks over at the wreckage. Two weeks since the attack, and the camp is actually in better shape than he'd expected. The soldier that had written the report about the attack had a flourish for the dramatic: " _Death raining down from the sky,"_ it had said. _"Everything annihilated and turned to ash."_

"Did you see it? The dragon?" Emil blurts out.

Her back turned to Emil, Tuuri stops in her tracks. When she turns back towards him, her face is stretched into an obviously fake smile. "D- _Dragon_? Uh, n-nope, no dragons here! Definitely not!"

"That's not what the report said..." Emil says, doubtful. _How could she miss something like that?_

"Haha, nope, I don't know what you were told, but we just had a... really bad fire," Tuuri says, lying obviously and terribly. "We're fortunate no one died."

As Emil stares at her, puzzled as to why she would lie about something so blatantly obvious, he remembers a conversation he'd had on the boat ride there.

 _"These forest-people are weird about it,"_ Sigrun had warned him. _"They practically worship the damn beasts. You ask me, it's like worshiping a forest fire! But, ah, what can you expect from those heathens?"_

"...Okay, so..." Emil tries again. "What _did_ happen that night?"

"The Gods of the forest spared us the worst of their anger," Tuuri says. "The fire destroyed most of our buildings, but it didn't touch the barracks, where everybody was sleeping. So we didn't suffer any casualties. Almost everything else was totally burned up, though, and most of our supplies except for the preserved food that was stored underground. That's part of the reason everybody has been looking forward to your ship's arrival. I am _so_ sick of eating hardtack and oats."

Emil's stomach grumbles in sympathy. "Well, I hope the stuff we had in our supply crates is better than that garbage they served us on the way here. I swear, our ship's cook was trying to poison me."

Tuuri laughs at that, and they arrive at the barracks. She opens the door and gestures that Emil should step inside.

"Here's where you'll be sleeping," she tells him. "Apologies it's not the cleanest it's ever been, we had to move some folks in here when the outer halls burned."

The barracks are roomier than the ship's sleeping quarters, but not by much. The central hallway splits off into multiple sleeping rooms. Each room inside houses eight or more beds, and the floors are crowded with clothes, dirty linens, crumbs and various other refuse. A mouse scurries across the floor as Emil watches, swiftly followed by a young white-and-orange cat in eager pursuit.

Tuuri holds open a door to one of the sleeping rooms, which to Emil's relief looks fairly clean compared to the rest of the building. Only a few of the beds appear to be in use, with people's things around them.

"You newcomers will be sharing a room with me and my cousin," she says. "Only, you won't need to worry about Lalli. He goes out scouting and foraging most nights, and usually sleeps during the day."

Emil gives her a strange look. "He goes out at night? But aren't there trolls and monsters in the woods?"

"Well, yes, but... Lalli is a mage, as well as a scout. He can sense when spirits or foul creatures are nearby. In all our years growing up together, I've never known him to not come back from a night walk. Actually, he was out on patrol during the, um, fire! He looked pretty surprised when he came back that morning."

"A... mage. Right." Emil resists the urge to roll his eyes. Sigrun had said the forest-people were a superstitious bunch. He wouldn't make a good first impression by downplaying their beliefs, though. "You say your cousin sleeps during the day, but I don't see him here."

Tuuri looks thoughtful. "I don't know where Lalli is," she says. "Maybe he went hunting. He's generally back before sundown, just in time for dinner." She gives Emil a pat on the back. "Don't worry if you almost never see him. Lalli usually avoids other people as much as possible. Don't take it personally!"

"...Okay."

Tuuri pats the bed closest to her. "This one's yours. I'll give you a minute to get settled, and deal with your whole... situation," she says, gesturing to Emil's sodden tunic. "But don't linger too long! There's lots of work to be done around here, and we need all the help we can get!"

Tuuri gives him a cheerful wave and exits the room, closing the door behind her. Emil settles onto the bed, unbuckles his sword belt and unclips his metal shoulder guards. He then moves to remove his tunic so that he can take it to the shore and wash it in the lake water.

As he lifts the tunic above his head, he hears the door slam open again and an unfortunately familiar voice bark in close proximity, "Västerström! Have some goddamn decency around your superior officers!"

"Aaack!" Emil gives an undignified yelp and tangles himself in the cloth of the tunic. Unable to see and with his arms immobilized, he slips off the edge of the bed and falls onto the floor. After several seconds of struggling like a fish caught in a net, he manages to wrestle the wet clothes back onto his body, and looks up at Sigrun with a furious blush.

"Why don't _you_ show a little decency and not walk in on me when I'm changing?!"

"A truly competent soldier needs to be ready for an attack at anytime, anywhere," Sigrun says, wearing that grin that clearly shows when she's messing with Emil -- as she loves to do. She sniffs the air. "Hmph. Something smells like spoiled milk. These barracks are very poorly-kept."

"At least they didn't burn down in the fire," Emil says. "Tuuri said it was a miracle from their forest gods that nobody died."

"A miracle? _Ha!_ As if," Sigrun says with a loud bark of laughter. Then she leans in towards Emil and drops her voice to an almost-whisper. "Listen to me, soldier. That fire was no act of God. The natives may deny it, but mark my words: there is _definitely_ a dragon out there. They aren't saying anything because they want to protect it. They don't believe it will harm them, but we in the King's Army know better. That thing is a monster, and we are Cleansers who slay monsters. That's the real reason we're here, understood? Not to repair this dinky little outpost. Even if that's what they _think_ we're here for."

"Y-yeah. Yes, sir." Emil salutes with a fist against his chest.

Sigrun cups one hand around his ear and whispers even more quietly. "Remember, Emil. Don't let it slip that we've been sent here to slay the dragon. As far as any of these heathens know, we're just some good old-fashioned hired help here to get them back on their feet and fight off the occasional troll or two. Don't act suspicious or draw very much attention to yourself. At the same time, _do_ try and figure out what this dragon's deal is, where it lives, and how to kill it. Once that's done, we can return home as heroes, with glory and all that comes with it. We'll be immortalized in the halls of Valhalla: Emil and Sigrun, dragonslayers."

Emil can't even imagine what that would be like. "I'll keep quiet, sir."

Sigrun leans back and claps him on the shoulder. "Good man! We'll make a fine warrior of you yet. Finest in the King's forces!" Then she folds her arms and scrutinizes Emil closely. In a smooth motion too quick for Emil to see, she takes the butt of her sword sheath and uses it to prod the soft flesh at Emil's side. "Although, we'll have to put you through some more serious training before you're in good enough shape to be a real Viking. You're still too soft."

"Owww," Emil flinches away. So he's sensitive; so what? _Anyone_ would hurt if they got jabbed there, underneath where his elbow rests at his side.

Sigrun is unsympathetic. "You'll suffer far worse out on the battlefield," she tells him. "I know you have potential to be a great warrior, Emil. You've got this fire in you. We just have to stoke that fire in order to unleash it on the world."

Emil winces. _Did she have to phrase it that way?_

"Is there any way we can do that without leaving bruises everywhere?" he asks, groaning.

"No can do, soldier. Besides, when your bruises heal, the flesh underneath gets stronger!"

Emil's not a medic, but he's pretty sure that's false. "I don't think that's how it works..."

"Nonsense! Which of us has seen more combat? Hmm? And which of us would you say is stronger?"

"...You, sir," Emil says with a sigh. He has never won an argument with Sigrun.

"Exactly," Sigrun says, wearing a self-assured grin. She crosses over to one of the empty beds and flings her own bag on top of it; it clatters with a noise that indicates it contains multiple additional swords.

"Well! I'm off to go make nice with the locals. I'll leave you to your indecency for now."

Emil gives her a half-hearted salute and waits until she leaves and closes the door behind her before doubling over in pain, clutching his newly-bruised side. Sigrun was probably right that his pain tolerance threshold was too low; but that doesn't give her the right to go around jabbing people with a sword scabbard like that!

The pain ebbs into the background and Emil swiftly removes his tunic, replacing it with a plain cloth shirt that is dry and has only a normal amount of holes in it. Bundling the tunic under one arm, he motions to leave, only to spy his sword belt lying forgotten atop the bed. After a moment of consideration, he re-fastens the belt around his waist and feels the weight of the sword against his thigh.

Emil emerges from the barracks again, feeling fortunate he doesn't run into Tuuri or Sigrun or anyone that will assign him any work. He needs to wash his tunic before it starts to permanently smell of rotten milk. He glances towards the dock where the boat is moored. There is a flurry of activity taking place with people unloading supplies and swabbing the decks, so he can't risk showing his face around there.

While scanning the area for some other way to get to the lakeshore, he spots a different exit: a narrow gap in between two burned fence posts. It takes a little maneuvering to get his body through; he is _perhaps_ too stocky for extremely agile work, but hey, it's in his blood! Stumbling through the gap, he finds himself on a narrow path through the trees, with a sliver of light shining through the end.

Following this path to its end places Emil at a small rocky inlet on the lake's shore. A cluster of trees screens his location from view from the docks area, to Emil's relief. The trees also block out sound, meaning Emil hears only muffled voices along with the lap of waves against the shore and the wind rustling through the needles on the trees. _This_ is what he has truly been craving over the past week's journey on the boat: solid ground and solitude.

He crouches by the water's side and unrolls his sodden tunic, soaking it in the clear lake water. He wishes he had some soap, but the Army is stingy with their soap rations even in the best of times. He has to settle for manual scrubbing, which makes him feel like the old washer-woman who his family used to pay to do their laundry.

Thinking of his life before the Army nearly puts Emil on a nostalgic reverie; he shakes his head and tries to focus on the here and now. There's no point to dwelling on the past. No amount of daydreaming will bring back his old life, his family, and all the luxuries he used to take for granted. Now, his life consists of hard manual labor, with a few instances of life-threatening monster-slaying sprinkled in for good measure. Emil just has to tough it out. He needs to, if he ever wants to redeem himself, to recapture the charmed life he once lived.

He leaves his tunic to soak and unsheathes his sword from its scabbard. Its metal surface is polished to a mirror-like sheen, engraved with the Army's insignia. It's lightweight, high-quality steel; he tests the edge and it immediately draws miniature drops of blood from his finger. He yelps and puts the cut finger in his mouth. No doubt about it, this is a weapon designed for killing, and by the looks of it, it's very good at what it does.

Someday, Emil will need to use it to take a life. That day might be sooner than Emil likes to think.

He feels prickling sensation on the back of his neck, as though someone is watching him. Emil whips his head around, scanning the forest for movement. _There_ \-- a rustling in the pine branches, the flash of eyes in the shadows.

"Sh-show yourself!" Emil says, trying to sound confident but still managing to stutter. He grips both hands on the hilt of his sword. "I warn you, I'm armed!"

The tree branch gives another rustle, and he sees a dark shape moving in the shadows. Emil's heart pounds in his chest. _Was that a troll? This close to camp?_

"You'll regret coming here, monster," Emil says as he approaches the shaking tree. "I'm a trained soldier. I won't hesitate to cut you down!"

He charges towards the dark shadow with a yell, swinging his sword wildly. The blade slices cleanly through the pine tree branch. Emil brings it back around for another swing at the shadowy monster, but freezes in place when the light shines into the clearing.

At the point of his sword, staring at the weapon with wide, surprised eyes, is a young man who appears to be around Emil's age. He has spiky gray hair and a lean, wiry build, and is wearing a scout's uniform. In his hands is a basket filled with fresh-caught fish. His gaze is fixed on the sword, but then he looks up and locks eyes with Emil. His irises are pale, almost silver in color.

The young man says something, but his words are a flurry of rapid gibberish. Emil blinks. When they told him that the forest-people's language was incomprehensible, they weren't kidding.

"Um--" Emil manages. _How do you say 'sorry I almost murdered you' in forest-language?_ "I thought you were a monster," he says in Scanian.

The young man appears to study him closely. Emil feels the same uncomfortable sensation he'd felt when Tuuri had stared at him earlier. Come to think of it, this scout seemed a lot like her. _Could he be--_

"...Not a monster," the scout says in heavily-accented Scanian. He takes a step back, still watching Emil and his sword warily.

"Oh," Emil says. He realizes that having his sword out isn't helping soothe the situation, so he sheathes it and notices the scout visibly relax. "...Sorry. You just surprised me, sneaking up on me like that."

The scout narrows his eyes and fixes Emil with a cold glare. "Careful," he warns.

"I'm sorry. I'll be more careful in the future, I promise," Emil says.

The young man makes a displeased "pssht" noise, like a cat's hiss, and crouches to pick up a fish that had fallen out of his basket. He then turns his back on Emil, but not before shooting him one last dirty look, and disappears between the trees into the forest.

"Wait--" Emil says, too late. He is left standing in the forest clearing, sword in its sheath at his side, feeling massively foolish.

 _If my guess is right, that was Tuuri's cousin,_ he thinks. _And I just nearly murdered him by accident._

So much for making a good first impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quick setting notes...  
> 'Scania' is an imaginary kingdom that encompasses the entire present-day Nordic region.  
> Suomi (Finland) is a recently-annexed territory of Scania.  
> This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real historical events is unintentional.


	2. Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil adjusts to his new life at Keuruu and the strangeness that it brings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everybody who left comments on the first chapter.  
> Hope you enjoy what's to come!  
> Title for this chapter comes from [Work Song by Hozier](https://youtu.be/nH7bjV0Q_44).

-*-*-*-

_Emil stands by the lake shore under the stars. He doesn't know how he got there, but the night seems as bright as day. The stars and moon gleam like tiny cold suns, washing the rocky shore and the placid surface of the lake with blue and silver light.  Stretching across the lake's surface off into the vanishing distance are stepping stones, flat and evenly spaced, and Emil feels an urge to follow where they lead. He begins walking across, and his footfalls send ripples of glowing silver across the flat surface of the lake._

_After a moment, he looks back and the lake shore is out of sight. The lake appears like a sheet of black glass, reflecting the brilliant stars above. On the horizon, in the direction where the stepping stones lead, is a faint green glow, reaching across the sky like the fingers of dawn. As he walks down the path, the glow intensifies, until it is nearly blinding; then he feels himself collide with a wall out of nowhere and unexpectedly falls through some leafy shrubs into a grassy clearing._

_He shakes the leaves and twigs from his hair and gets back up to his feet. From where he just was on the surface of the lake, he's suddenly been transported into a forest grove. He hears the sound of a babbling brook somewhere nearby. He looks backwards, and sees the lake behind him, through a gap in the trees. As he watches, the gap seals itself up and the lake vanishes from view. Soft, clouded daylight falls gently on his face through the dappled shadows of trees. Emil decides not to question it, and instead continues walking towards the sound of the water._

_Eventually he comes across a clearing that contains a serene pool with water lilies floating in it, and a boardwalk that stretches across its surface. It forms a hexagonal platform in the center of the pond._

_Lying at the center of the platform, curled up in sleep, is the dragon._

_Emil jumps and instinctively reaches for a sword that isn't there. He holds his breath, terrified of making any kind of sound or motion that will rouse the sleeping beast. The dragon is easily twice the size of a horse, with a long, arched neck, and its body is covered in fine silver fur. Large leathery wings are folded across its back, with reddish markings on them that look like some runes he saw carved into a rock outside Keuruu. A thin, sinuous tail that is more than twice its body length curls around the tip of its snout. It reminds Emil of nothing else more than a cat dozing in a ray of sunlight._

_All of the legends and depictions Emil had seen of dragons had told of them as monsters; feral beasts which will carry off livestock and human prey indiscriminately, and whose fiery wrath brings destruction and ruin. Emil thinks he might be the only human alive to have ever seen one sleeping. And depending on if this dragon wakes up, he may not be alive for much longer..._

_Still, it's as he studies it that Emil starts to notice all the ways in which this dragon doesn't match the one in the legend. It has fur, not scales; it even appears soft, although Emil wouldn't dare touch it. Some of the depictions described it as lizardlike, or some kind of serpent, but this dragon resembles a big cat more than anything else, with its pointed ears and softly furred paws that surely contain sheathed claws. It looks like no other creature or monster Emil has ever seen; not beast nor troll nor giant. It hardly looks like a monster at all._

_Just as he has that thought, Emil glances at the dragon's face and his blood runs cold. One of its eyelids has cracked open._

_Emil stands completely motionless. It can't see him if he's not moving, right?_

_The dragon's eye opens wider, and its slit-pupiled gaze snaps towards him immediately. So much for that theory. The eyes glow from within with a blue light like starlight. It stares at him and begins to rouse, its leathery wings twitching as it uncurls from its sleeping position and rises to its feet. Its vivid stare burns itself into into Emil's eyes like blue fire._

_[[ WHY ARE_ **_YOU_ ** _HERE ? ]]_

_The question booms in Emil's head, louder than a shout coming from every direction. It almost sounded as if the dragon was asking why he, Emil, in particular was there._

_"I- I don't know! I just, followed a path across the lake, and--"_

_[[ YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE . ]]_

_Emil cries out and falls to his knees, clutching at his head as the noise reverberates around his skull. The fur on the dragon's spine begins to stand on end like an agitated cat. Its muzzle curls back in a snarl, and ripples begin emanating outwards in the forest pool._

_[[ LEAVE !! ]]_

_The dragon extends its wings and sends a blast of power that catches Emil squarely in the chest, launching him backwards through the forested walls of the thicket and_ onto his back lying on his bed at the barracks.

Emil gasps awake and stares at the ceiling, his heart relentlessly pounding against the walls of his chest. He sits up and looks around; he's surrounded by the gently snoring bodies of his fellow soldiers. He's suddenly wide awake, and trying to figure out what he'd just seen.

Okay, so it was all a dream. Obviously. But why had it felt so _real_? He's never had a dream that felt like that before.

Pushing himself to a seated position, he gazes out the narrow window. A clear night sky shows through, with maybe a hint of rosy pink on the horizon. During the summer, daylight is abundant while nights are short-lived. That means he has to make the most of the precious few hours of sleep he gets every night. He lays back down and closes his eyes. Try as he might, though, Emil can't manage to sleep. Each time he closes his eyes, he pictures the burning blue gaze of the dragon.

"Prrt?" An unexpected noise and pressure on the end of Emil's bed causes him to glance up again. The little white-and-orange kitty has hopped up on his bed. Her paws knead at the bedroll underneath her, and before too long she is curled up at Emil's feet on the end of the bed, purring softly. Emil closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of her purring to distract him.

It's better than nothing.

-*-*-*-

By the end of the first full day's work at the Keuruu outpost, every muscle in Emil's body aches. It's all he can do to hold himself upright as he waits in line for supper, clutching his wooden bowl. He just wants to get some hot food in his belly before the nighttime horn blows and he can retreat into the barracks and get some _actual_ sleep, for once, before he has to rise the next morning and do it all over again.

The day-to-day routine at the Keuruu base plays out this way: A horn is blown in the morning an hour after sunup, signalling the start of their day. Each of the hundred-odd soldiers, scouts, and military personnel is given an unforgivingly short window of time to clothe and prepare themselves, and then they all gather in the central area and are split up into divisions for morning patrol. Emil finds himself with a ragtag band of forest-people, as well as a handful of other soldiers sent over from mainland Scania. Together they jog over the crest of the nearby hill, breathing in the crisp morning air that carries a hint of cold, even in the dying embers of summer. They return from their patrol and are rewarded with a breakfast of hardtack and cold water before being immediately set to work on repairs. In the hours while the sun climbs to its peak in the sky, Emil wields a hammer with a passable degree of competence in order to rebuild the outer frame of the Armory.

At around midday, Sigrun pulls him aside and takes him out of the camp into a more secluded grove for their "special lesson". They spar, which mainly consists of Sigrun disarming him repeatedly, all the while criticizing his technique and stance and softness and general ineptitude. She talks about the finer points of monster-slaying, boasts of her past exploits as a Cleanser squad leader and how she took down a giant that one time, and waxes poetic about the elegant simplicity of a well-forged sword. By the end of their lesson, Emil can barely muster up the energy to get back to his feet after Sigrun sweeps his leg for the umpteenth time. He does anyway, his knees wobbling underneath him, and rather than lunging at him once again, Sigrun sheathes her sword and claps him on the back and suggests they get some lunch.

Lunch is the best meal Emil's had in awhile: freshly-baked bread with some cheese and an apple, juicy and fresh, all washed down with a flask of ale. But much as his body yearns for a rest, after lunch is more work: this time, sorting through the shipment of supplies that came off the boat. He carries wood to the construction site, food to the larders, linens to the barracks, until every part of his body wants to quit. By the time the evening horn blows, signalling the end of the work day, Emil feels as though he could lie down on the packed-dirt ground and take a nap where he stands.

Now, he waits in line with his fellow soldiers as the sun sinks towards the horizon, kissing the tops of the trees and splashing vivid orange and pink hues across the wide sky. He teeters on his feet and tries to keep both eyes open. The supper line snakes around to the firepit where they are ladling out portions of that night's meal into everybody's bowls. When it comes to Emil's turn, he looks up at the man holding the ladle and snaps wide awake for a moment.

"Wha-- _you?!_ " he gapes in disbelief. "I thought you worked on the boat?"

The man who stands by the pot of stew is roughly the shape of a mountain and about as massive. Long, wiry sideburns like a lion's mane frame his face. He wears a placid expression on his face.

"I did," agrees the cook in a deep rumbling voice, as he ladles some of the stew into Emil's bowl. "But they fired me, so now I work here."

Emil eyes the greyish concoction in his bowl. Everything inside is the same uniform consistency, and a miscellaneous glob of white meat bobs to the surface. Despite the hunger clawing in his belly, Emil has never been less eager to eat something in his life. "...I can see why they fired you."

"I'm not just a cook, you know," says the man. "I'm a medic too. And a farmer. And... lots of other stuff."

"Well, that's good at least, because if you were only a cook, that would be pretty sad for you."

"Hey." The large man shakes his ladle at Emil. "Go eat. You'll need the energy for tomorrow."

Emil takes his bowl and moves to sit by the fire. He scans the various sawn-off logs, searching for the perfect spot to eat his unappetizing meal. Clusters of forest-people sit around the fire, chattering rapidly in their incomprehensible language. He recognizes a few fellow soldiers from the boat ride, but they turn their faces away as soon as they make eye contact. Emil heaves a sigh; he's never managed to click with his fellow soldiers, whether due to resentment over his privileged upbringing, jealousy over Emil's being chosen by Sigrun as her right-hand man, or otherwise.

Speaking of Sigrun, he sees her shock of bright-red hair on the far side of the fire. She's engaged in conversation and gesturing wildly with her hands, surely telling a story of some heroic battle. Emil shuffles out of her line of sight and hopes she doesn't notice him; he doesn't want to add any more bruises to his collection today.

Just as he's on the verge of giving up and just going back to the barracks to eat dinner in solitude, he hears a high-pitched voice call his name.

"Emil!"

He turns and sees Tuuri, the fluffy-haired forest-woman from the previous day, waving eagerly at him with a bright smile on her face. She pats the log beside her and Emil approaches and sits down wearily.

"Hi, Tuuri," he says. Despite his tiredness, he manages a small smile. Tuuri's positive energy is contagious.

"How was your first day?" she asks.

Emil tries to bottle up his frustration and exhaustion. _A good soldier never complains._ Then he opens his mouth and fails that challenge immediately. "I can't believe they hired the ship's cook! That man cannot prepare a meal to save his life!"

"Who, Mikkel?" Tuuri tilts her head curiously. "We're very lucky he joined on when he did. Having a cook and a medic on hand is always a good thing. He said he'd do any sort of job we needed done, so long as we paid him money, and we need all the help we can get."

Emil glances at her bowl of stew; it's suspiciously full as well. "If he's so great a cook, then why haven't you eaten any stew?"

"Well..." Tuuri looks askance. "I'm... not hungry?" she tries, her face betraying the lie.

"Nice try. I saw you working just as much as the rest of us today. Either you're hungry, or you aren't human," says Emil.

"All right, okay, you got me," Tuuri says, resting the bowl in her lap and holding her hands up in defeat. "I couldn't get past the smell. I took one bite and nearly gagged. But... we have to eat something, or we'll collapse! Ugh," she groans in despair.

Emil spears a piece of miscellaneous meat on his knife. "I'll take a bite if you do."

Tuuri's nose wrinkles. "I told you, I'm not hungr-- oh, hey Lalli!" she says, abruptly changing the subject to call out to somebody on the other side of Emil.

Emil twists his body around to look. There, standing on the outer ring of light from the fire, is Tuuri's cousin, the scout from the previous day. He looks spooked, as if caught in the middle of sneaking off somewhere. In his hands is a haunch of fire-roasted meat.

Lalli stares at them, but appears frozen. His silver-eyed gaze is fixed squarely on Emil, staring at him with a particular intensity that makes Emil's stomach flip.

"What are you doing all the way over there? You look like you're some stray begging for scraps," Tuuri says to him. "Come sit by the fire with us!"

Lalli edges closer, never taking his eyes off Emil the whole time, until he stands about five feet away, his whole body illuminated in the flickering firelight.

"That's better. Now we can see you," Tuuri says. "Have you met Emil? He came over on the boat yesterday. Don't worry, he's nice, he won't bite."

Emil's stomach lurches. Regret over their previous interaction bubbles up in Emil's chest. _How do I let Tuuri know what happened yesterday? How I thought he was a monster and nearly ran him through with my sword? Yeah, we're cool now, though..._

Lalli continues to fix Emil with that same, unblinking stare. The silence stretches too long to be comfortable, until finally Lalli opens his mouth and says, "...Weird."

Tuuri frowns. "You can't just call people weird, Lalli, it's not polite." Lalli responds with a flurry of words in the forest-language, which seems to catch Tuuri off-guard. She responds in their language, and they hold a conversation, the meaning of which is completely opaque to Emil, but he has a sinking feeling they're talking about him.

"That can't be right," says Tuuri in Scanian. Then she turns to Emil. "Emil, did you try to murder my cousin yesterday?"

"I-i-it was an honest mistake! I-I swear!" Emil holds his hands up defensively. "I was alone by the lake shore, and I heard some rustling by the trees. I thought it was a monster, so I swung my sword at it!" He flushes red and looks at the ground, twirling a lock of hair in his fingers in embarrassment. "...I'm really sorry."

Tuuri takes a second to process what Emil says. Then she nods her head in understanding. "...I see." She looks up towards Lalli. "Lalli, you shouldn't sneak up on people. It freaks them out when you do that. Emil, thank you for explaining it honestly. You shouldn't worry much about him though, he was never in any danger. Lalli's much too quick for that."

Lalli responds with a nonverbal "Hmph!" and settles into a squat by the fire. He brings the haunch of meat to his face and tears off a chunk with his sharp teeth. It looks delicious compared with the inedible muck that Emil has, and his stomach rumbles. He casts a side glance over towards Tuuri and notices her staring at the meat as well, a shining light in her eyes.

" _Lal-li,_ " Tuuri says, her voice sugar-sweet, "Are you gonna eat _all_ that yourself?"

It does seem a generous portion for someone as stick-thin as Lalli. He appears to consider this as well, and then removes a narrow knife from his clothing and slices off a portion of the haunch, which he holds out towards Tuuri, who eagerly accepts it.

His gaze then snaps right back to Emil, who realizes he's been caught hungrily staring at the haunch of meat as well. For a moment, Emil thinks Lalli is going to disregard him and return to his meal, but then to his surprise Lalli uses his knife to cut off a second piece. This he holds at arm's length towards Emil, averting his eyes as he does.

Emil accepts the meat, eagerly stuffing it into his mouth before anyone can take it away from him. It's venison, fresh-caught and rare, the texture soft and full of flavor. The last time Emil had venison this high quality was back on his family's estate, after his father would return from the hunt with all the other nobles of the surrounding hamlets. They would have a feast with fruit tarts and mulled wine, and Emil would play with the other families' children, running across the grounds of the estate. He so badly wanted the attention of the older girl with the pretty copper ringlets, who in turn had ignored him. The noblemen and women would all get drunk on mulled wine, while his mother played the violin, and the festivity lasted into the night while Emil drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the taste of fruit tart.

Emil snaps back to the present and stares at his hands, now empty of venison. _What was that... did I just zone out for a second?_ Emil is seriously tired. The only thing that this night's meal has in common with the festive celebrations of years past is the bonfire, which has always been burning at the heart of everything since the day he was born. He watches the flames crackle through the burning wood, sending hot tongues of fire and sparks dancing up, up to the darkening sky. God, he loves fire. Even after everything in his life that it's burned away, it's still the most beautiful thing Emil has ever seen.

It's at this moment he realizes he never said anything to thank Lalli for sharing his haunch.  "...It's good," he says belatedly. "Thanks."

Lalli is polishing scraps of meat from the bone and cleaning off his fingers like a cat using his tongue. At the sound of Emil's voice he looks up again and the two of them lock eyes. Something deep and inscrutable flashes behind those silver eyes, and it almost seems familiar, the way they stare into Emil with burning emotion, like something out of a dream...

_Like..._

"Phew! I'm exhausted," says Tuuri by his side, yawning and stretching out her arms and legs. "Doesn't matter how loud everyone else snores tonight. I am gonna sleep like a log," she proclaims. She reaches over to tap Emil on the shoulder. "If you wanna take a bath before bed, every bathtub we had burned up except one, so it's in pretty high demand right now. Just so you know."

 _Of course._ That figures. Nothing in Emil's life was ever going to be easy anymore. Tuuri subtly tips her bowl of inedible stew out behind a log, and Emil follows suit and does the same.

By the time he thinks to look back at Lalli, the scout has vanished from his spot by the fire. Emil cranes his neck to determine where he went, and he sees him heading towards the camp gate, pulling his scouting hood over his head.

"Where's he going?"

Tuuri glances at Lalli's vanishing back. "Oh, he's off on night patrol. He'll most likely be gone until sunrise. He was asleep for most of the day, you know?"

"He goes alone?" Emil wonders. Lalli was less than half the size of an average troll; normally, it took a team of three well-trained soldiers to take one down.

"Yep! He's very good at his job," Tuuri says. "He can sense danger and knows when to avoid it. He also hunts game, gathers roots and plants, and tracks the movements of trolls and other creatures in the area to report back to us the next day. By himself, he's more useful than a whole squad of soldiers." She glances towards Emil. "Um, sorry, no offense..."

Emil shrugs. "None taken," he says. He _is_ pretty useless, after all. He wishes he'd grown up learning how to hunt and forage and track game through the woods. Anything would be more useful now than memorizing poems or learning to play the _nyckelharpa_. Right now, his skills are limited to starting fires and knowing which is the proper end to hold a sword from. (the non-pointy one.)

And yet, as Emil watches Lalli disappear into the shadowed wood, his chest is filled with an irrational fear for his safety. Sure, the scout may be able to hold his own against an average beast or troll. But Emil knows that there's something else out there in those woods. Something immense, powerful and dangerous, with glowing eyes that burn like blue fire...

The dragon is out there somewhere. It knows that Emil is there, too. And it's waiting for him.


	3. Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A monster sighting sends Emil, Sigrun, and Lalli out into the wilderness.

In the weeks that follow his arrival at Keuruu, Emil doesn't dream of the dragon again, nor does he return to that lush, forested dream-space that still lies so vivid on the edge of memory. Rather, his dreams are the more ordinary sort; except that for Emil,  _ ordinary _ means full of swords, fire, and vague, monstrous shadows. Increasingly, however, a reoccurring figure begins appearing on the margins, watching Emil at a distance with catlike eyes. It takes a few nights of these dreams before Emil puts two and two together and realizes that he's dreaming of Lalli.

In the waking world, Emil sees Lalli only sporadically, owing to their drastically different schedules. Yet the scout seems to always be nearby, hovering at the edges of Emil's perception like a phantom. He appears at mealtimes and during roll call; occasionally, Emil sees him hanging around Tuuri while she's doing inventory on their supplies, the two of them chatting amiably in their forest-language. Once or twice, Emil has woken at dawn to the sound of sheets rustling, to find that Lalli has returned from night patrol. Rather than crawling into his own bed, he instead grabs the thin sheets and rolls under _ Emil's  _ bed, as stealthy and silent as a shade, and when Emil wakes to the morning horn's call he is gone again.

And that's the thing about Lalli: he seems strangely fixated on Emil. After their exchange that first night, he doesn't seem afraid that Emil will attack him like before. But he still watches Emil intensely, and doesn't flinch away when Emil stares back. Everything about his behavior is an enigma, but not an  _ unpleasant  _ one; he actually finds that he enjoys Lalli's company, strange though it may be. It's a nice break from Sigrun's belligerent coaching-slash-bullying and the frosty indifference from his fellow Scanian soldiers.

They seldom speak, owing to Lalli's shaky grasp of Scanian and Emil's utter inability to speak a word of forest-language, although he thinks he's building up a working understanding of his body language, and can tell when he's tired, or annoyed, or when he wants to steal a bite of Emil's dinner. Despite this, they have a working equilibrium, and bit by bit Lalli's normally prickly personality relaxes around Emil. Tuuri is just as perplexed as he is, but shrugs and says he's just like that, and she's used to it by now.

It's perhaps due to this strange companionship they've built that Emil feels a perverse sort of excitement when it's announced that a troll has been sighted near the camp, and Lalli would be guiding the expedition to go and slay it.

Naturally, Sigrun steps in as leader, owing to her prior monster-slaying experience as well as her overall enthusiasm. And where goes Sigrun, so too goes Emil.

He's in the barracks preparing his supplies for the hunt when the door to their room slams open and Sigrun strides in, a sack of hunting gear slung over one shoulder.

"Västerström! Are you ready to put some blood on your blade?"

Emil's fingers fumble in securing the metal pauldrons of his soldier's uniform, and the piece of armor falls to the floor with a clatter. He picks it up and refastens it, hoping Sigrun wouldn't notice the slip. "Um, yes, sir."

Sigrun  _ tsks  _ at him. "Come now, soldier. Where's your enthusiasm? You are a Cleanser! Our purpose is to rid the world of foul vermin so that our civilization can rise up strong. We are this world's heroes! And that means we face our noble duty with zeal!" She claps him on the shoulder. "If you are afraid, good. That's your strongest asset, your desire to fight to survive!"

"I'm not afraid," Emil says. "It's only a troll. You've fought so many of them by now, I'm sure this one will be just routine for you."

"Perhaps for me, but for you, it's something else entirely," Sigrun says. "A soldier never forgets his first battle. A true warrior's heart is forged in that fire. He must be prepared for any eventuality, even death!"

Emil flinches. "D-do you think that's a real possibility? That someone will die?"

Sigrun flips a hand dismissively. "Ha! With me in charge, not a chance. But someday, should you ever become a Captain, leading a command of your own... you will need to confront that. So you'd better get started now!"

Emil stares up at her. Does she mean what she said, that Emil could be put in charge of his own men someday? He's getting better at swordfighting, day by day. The hard labor and lean diet have sharpened some of his softer edges. But he still feels leagues away from Sigrun's level. It's going to take more than a little training and practice to leave behind his cushy upbringing.

He places his hand on the pommel of his sword in its sheath. "All right," he says, feeling for that spark of determination burning at his core. He can do this. He'll prove that he's capable and worthy of everyone's respect. "I'm ready. Let's do this."

"Good man!" Sigrun slugs him in the shoulder; Emil is grateful he put on his shoulder-guards. "One last thing before we head out." She sets down the sack of stuff she is carrying and rummages around inside. From deep within the sack she withdraws a handful of objects. The first is a thick wooden stick with one end wrapped in cloth rags; the second is a fire-starting flint, and the third is a small bottle of flammable oil. These three things she presses into Emil's arms.

Emil stares at the fire-starting materials, a cocktail of emotions playing out in his mind.

"I trust that you, of all people, will know how to use these," Sigrun says. "When slaying a troll, the number one way of killing it dead is to make certain it burns up completely and utterly. Otherwise, its flesh will melt into the ground and contaminate everything around it, breeding more abominations. So I'm entrusting you with that role, as our resident pyromaniac."

"Um," Emil says. He's not sure he likes having that particular role assigned to him, but the sense of responsibility it brings is a nice feeling. "...Thank you, sir?"

"Finish preparing your things and report to the back gate. We depart at the next horn call," commands Sigrun, her back stood rigid as she salutes. Emil straightens up as well and returns the salute, one fist to his chest. Then Sigrun spins on her heel and marches from the room.

Emil takes a few more moments getting his armor and weapons securely fastened, and then hurries outside after her, as the sunlight shines high and bright overhead.

A small band of soldiers are gathered around the gate. Sigrun is the most noticeable in the crowd, her red hair standing out like a banner of victory. She is accompanied by two other soldiers: one another Scanian soldier from the boat, the other one a forest-person, his gray hair cropped short and with a bow and arrows strapped to his back. Off to one side, Emil spies Lalli leaning against a fence post, his face partially in shadow.

Just as Emil approaches their group, the horn blows, signalling the start of the hunt. Sigrun raises a sword and points it in the direction of the forest. "Onwards!" she commands, and they begin to march.

Some time later, and their squad is deep in the heart of the forest, the towering trees overhead forming a shady crown that blocks out the bright sunlight. Sigrun gives the signal for them to halt, and they pause in the middle of a clearing.

She pulls out a hand-drawn map of the surrounding area and points to their location. "Hey, Scout!" she says, pointing at Lalli. He takes a couple of tentative steps her way. She points towards the map. "Your report told us you saw a troll to the north of camp. We've been patrolling the entire northern sector, and I'm not seeing any sign of the thing. Are you sure you saw it near here?"

Lalli stares at the map. Then he looks at Sigrun. "...Not saw," he says. "Sensed it. Last night."

"You...  _ sensed _ it," Sigrun says, hands on her hips, wearing a skeptical look on her face.

Lalli nods. "It's weaker now. Must have moved."

"Do you know  _ where _ it's gone?" Sigrun arches one eyebrow.

Instead of responding immediately, Lalli steps backwards. He clasps his palms together and murmurs words in forest-language underneath his breath. Sigrun opens her mouth, presumably to call him out for insubordination, but pauses when the other forest-person in their squad places his hand on her shoulder and shakes his head, signalling that she should let Lalli continue doing whatever it is.

A few moments later, Lalli's eyes snap open. His irises seem to almost glow for a moment with an ethereal blue light before fading back to silver. He then points a finger towards the east.

"That way," he says, and doesn't wait for them before hurrying off in that direction.

"What was that just now?" Sigrun watches Lalli, mystified.

Emil coughs. "Tuuri says he's a mage. So that was probably... a magic spell, think?"

"Hrmph." Sigrun looks mildly displeased, but she rolls up her map and starts after him. "As long as that pipsqueak finds the troll for us."

They continue onwards following Lalli's lead. He moves swiftly through the woods, without much regard for the squad's ability to keep up. Oftentimes Emil only catches a glimpse of his scout's uniform in between the gaps of the trees more than a hundred paces ahead.

The land slopes gradually upwards as they enter the foothills of the mountain. The dense forest thins out, the soil turned rocky and the thick-trunked trees replaced by shorter, scrappier bushes and gnarled evergreens. Emil glances behind him and sees the wide expanse of the valley spread out below, with its many lakes scattered across the landscape shining in the sunlight, and the distant plume of smoke rising from their camp at Keuruu. It feels like they've come a long way, although realistically it's only been a couple hours of walking. When he glances back towards his squad, he sees they've gone on ahead and have crested the top of the rise. Sigrun beckons him to catch up.

When Emil joins them at the top of the hill, out of breath but trying to hide it, he opens his mouth to ask why the group has stopped. Before he can say a word, however, he follows Sigrun's gaze to the valley on the other side and immediately understands why they stopped.

Lying on the sloped hillside is the bloodied corpse of a reindeer. Lalli stands crouched by its antlers, examining it closely. The reindeer's throat has been torn open and the brutal wound reaches all the way down to its chest. Enormous bite-shaped chunks are missing from its flesh.

Sigrun approaches the dead reindeer. She drags a finger through the blood pooled on the rocky ground and rubs it between her fingers.

"...Still warm," she says. "This was recent. And based on the size of those bites, no bear or wolf did this. I think we're getting close to our target."

As soon as she says that, Lalli bristles. He draws his knife from its sheath at his hip and crouches in a combat stance, eyes glancing to and fro. He lets out a low growl, like an animal distressed.

Sigrun sees his reaction and draws her sword as well. "Battle positions, everybody," she orders. The other soldiers draw and ready their weapons; Emil draws his sword too with a sharp, steely sound. They each position themselves with their backs to the reindeer carcass.

For a tense minute, there is no sound but the whooshing of the wind across the steppe and Emil's heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then there is a distant vibration and sound of rocks shifting, more felt than heard, which seems to be emanating from... below?

Lalli suddenly gives a start, his gaze snapping to a point on the ground just ten paces away from them, when the distant rumble becomes a crashing of rocks and the troll erupts from underneath the earth.

The sight of it causes Emil's blood to run cold and his stomach to turn. No artist's drawing of a troll could fully encapsulate the grotesque, malformed appearance of it up close, with its mottled and wrinkled skin, bloodstained and covered in dust. Its body shape is roughly like that of an inverted teardrop, with a bulbous torso tapering off into a long, winding tail. Its central mass is balanced between dozens of spindly legs, each one tipped in brutal, shovel-like claws. On its underside, a gaping maw opens wide, filled from front to back with countless ravenous teeth.

Just being in its presence causes Emil to gag and cover his nose; the odor it emits is revolting. The troll lets out an ear-splitting screech and lunges at their group, brandishing its claws to tear them apart like it had done to the reindeer. There is a blur of motion and Sigrun intercepts its attack, slamming her shield straight into its toothy face and slicing at it with her sword. Her attack severs one of its front claws and sends the troll flipping over on its side before righting itself again with a snarl.

"Arrow, now!" commands Sigrun, and their archer looses the arrow he had notched in his bow, striking it squarely in one of its many clouded eyes. The troll recoils, screaming in rage, attempting to claw out the arrow lodged in its flesh. The shaft of the arrow snaps, and it turns and faces their group, dripping its blood on the ground but still every bit as dangerous, and now even more furious than before.

Instead of lunging directly for them again, it dives towards the earth and begins digging, its many legs pushing aside rocks and dust until it disappears from view. The only sign of its presence is a faint tremor that rumbles underfoot.

"Fan out," orders Sigrun. "And pay close attention. We don't know where it'll resurface."

Emil takes several steps forward, his eyes trained on the ground. The rumbling of rocks is very faint; the troll could come out from anywhere. His sweating hands make it difficult to secure his grip on his sword. Breathe in, breathe out. This was just like sparring with Sigrun. Just like--

A rumbling cascade of rocks echoes from underground, just a few paces behind Emil's back. He feels hot, rancid breath on the back of his neck as he peers over one shoulder with wide eyes and finds himself staring into the malformed, toothy maw of the troll, its claws outstretched, poised to eviscerate him.

"SIGRUUUUN!" Emil cries out as he dives forward, out of the way of the troll's attack. He's just slightly too slow to dodge completely, and he feels the monster's teeth grab ahold of the rucksack on his back. The leather tears between the monster's teeth as Emil spins around towards it, slashing wildly with his sword. He scores a shallow gash across the wrinkled flesh beneath its jaw, sending out a spurt of blood that flecks across Emil's cheek. Then, the extra momentum from the troll tearing into the bag on his back causes him to lose his footing, falling to his knees on the rocky ground. From where he lays, he holds the sword up with shaking hands and cries out, "HELP!"

The troll spits out the contents of Emil's bag and then pushes its weight back on its hind cluster of legs. It rears up, extending to its full height that is nearly twice as tall as Emil, towering over him as it blocks out the sun behind its bulbous head. Its slavering maw drips rancid saliva and blood onto the ground, and it plunges towards Emil, mouth first, ready to swallow him up, sword and all.

Before the troll can connect with Emil, a silvery blur strikes it on the side of its face, knocking it off-target. Emil looks up, expecting to see Sigrun, but instead he sees Lalli, his eyes ringed with blue light like before, who has pounced onto the monster's side and is repeatedly driving his short hunting knife into its flesh. The troll screams, flailing its claws in an attempt to catch Lalli, who instead pushes himself off the side of its face, flips backwards and lands on his feet again like a cat, crouched over Emil's prone form, standing directly between him and the troll.

"Nice work, pipsqueak!" shouts Sigrun as she and the other soldier flank the troll on both sides. Sigrun's longsword slices clean through a leg, while the other soldier opens up a deeper cut on its back. The troll thrashes and lashes out, and with a swing of its tail, it impacts the Scanian soldier's sword arm, causing his sword to go spiralling away and lodge itself face-up in the hillside. The newly disarmed soldier takes a panicked step back as the troll rounds on him. Then, there's the  _ hiss-thok _ of an arrow impacting flesh as the archer embeds more arrows in its side, provoking further screams from the monster.

Emil stumbles onto his feet again and watches his fellow soldiers fight the troll. He wants to help, but the thought of going close-range with his sword causes his stomach to bottom out in fear. He glances over at the archer, who lets loose arrow after arrow into the troll. There  _ has _ to be something that only Emil can do to help...

His eyes fall to the ground, where the contents of his rucksack lay scattered across the rocky ground. The torch, bottle of flammable oil and flint firestarter catch his eye. What was it Sigrun had said?  _ Kill it dead and burn it up completely _ ?

Well, it might be mixing up the standard order a bit, but  _ this _ was more Emil's specialty. He sheaths his sword and takes a step forward, drawing a surprised glance from Lalli as he gathers up the torch and bottle of oil. He soaks a few oil drops into the rag tied to the end and then picks up the flint.

"Look out, it's burying itself again!" calls out Sigrun. The troll is using its remaining legs to tunnel underground. "It's trying to escape! Don't let it get away!"

Emil pings the firestarter against the flint, sending a shower of sparks over the oil-soaked torch. He only has to do this a few times before a crimson flame blossoms around the tip. He steps forward, holding the torch with far more confidence than he had the sword.

"It won't get far," he says. "Let's smoke it out."

Sigrun shoots him a look of wide-eyed surprise, before gesturing with a thumbs-up. "Good thinking, soldier!"

Emil approaches the newly-dug tunnel under the earth and places the burning torch at its entrance. For a tense moment, none of them can even breathe as they wait for it to respond. Then the silence is rent by an ear-splitting screech as the troll forces its way up through the ground again, hacking and gasping like a man sick and dying. It starts to limp away, its gait irregular due to Sigrun having severed several of its legs on one side.

"After it!" Sigrun orders, and they all sprint down the hillside towards where the troll is retreating, headed down into a rocky ravine.

It disappears behind a large boulder, and when they follow it to the other side the troll is no longer in sight. A trail of blood drops and scraping footprints lead further into the canyon. Sigrun places a finger in front of her lips and indicates they should halt.

"It could be a trap," she warns. "Trolls have been known to feign defeat, and then retaliate once the enemy drops its guard. I've seen entire squads go that way. We need to be careful." She then points towards Lalli and gestures with two fingers that he should scout ahead.

Lalli nods in assent and flattens his back against the wall. He edges forward and peeks around the corner, then gestures for the rest of them to follow. Peering around the corner, they can see the blood trail leads into a shadowy cave, lodged in between two parallel rock faces. This was a dead-end: only one way in and out. That meant their prey was  _ definitely _ in there.

Sigrun takes a rock and chucks it towards the area just outside the cave. It makes a clattering noise against the rocks and then lays still. No response comes from the darkened corners of the canyon. She gestures towards Emil.

" _ Torch _ ," she hisses underneath her breath, and points. Emil flinches. Did she want him to shine his light into the cave? But doing so would make him vulnerable to attack...

As Emil hesitates, Lalli grabs the torch from his hand and strides towards the darkened corner.

"Wai--" Emil accidentally says out loud before Sigrun places a hand over his mouth to silence him. Emil shakes off her arms and scrambles after Lalli.  _ The troll is going to get him, and I'll have just stood and watched! _

He catches up to Lalli, standing by the entrance to the cave. Lalli holds out the torch, and its flickering light illuminates a heaving, hulking mass at the corner of the cave. The firelight glints off clusters of milky, bloodied eyes and row upon row of glistening teeth. The troll has been waiting for them.

It emits an ear-splitting shriek and lunges for them with teeth and claws alike. Lalli faces the troll and his irises light up with blue. For a moment, it seems as though a spectral shape surrounds him, far larger than his slight frame, with pointed ears and a long, sweeping tail. The ethereal form strikes the troll, causing it to stagger backwards. Afterwards, Lalli collapses to his knees.

Emil has no idea what just happened, but whatever it was, it gives him an opening. He uncorks the bottle of flammable oil and flings it at the troll's massive maw. The monster gags on the foul-tasting liquid, which gives Emil time to strike at the flint he carries, showering sparks to try and start a fire and burn the monster from the inside out. The oil combusts as soon as the sparks collide with it, instantly filling the troll's toothy maw with flames. The monster squeals and staggers back, stumbling out of control as the fire grows inside of it, thrashing its bloodied body against the narrow walls of the canyon.

Lalli is unresponsive, so Emil has to grab his body and haul it out of the path of the monster's chaotic rampage. From up above them, he hears a distant shout, getting louder and louder as it gets closer, until--

"AaaaaaAAAAAAAAA DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!" yells Sigrun as she comes leaping down from up above the canyon's walls onto the back of the troll, plunging her sword deep into its head, piercing through its gaping mouth and out through its underbelly.

Blood spurts out of the troll's chest, and more from the top of its head as Sigrun withdraws her blade from its skull. It lets out a final, agonized gurgle, and gasps smoke and blood before collapsing motionless onto the ground, dead. The fire continues to burn inside of it, flames licking out from its mouth and through the sword hole cut in its head.

Sigrun flicks the blood off her longsword and stands atop the troll's motionless corpse, victorious. The other two soldiers catch up with their group, and together they all stare at the smoldering mass of its body. The flammable oil does its work, as the fire is truly catching now, filling the air with the choking smell of burnt and rotten flesh. Emil covers his nose and steps back. Sigrun jumps off its back just as the burning body cavity collapses in on itself.

She wears an ear-to-ear grin as she stands before the smoldering troll corpse, resting her hands atop the pommel of her bloody sword. "Warriors of the King's Army! We have successfully completed this Hunt! Let no beast nor troll nor giant stand in our way!" She holds the sword up to the sky. "For Scania!"

"For Scania!" echo the other two soldiers. Emil reaches for his sword to also echo the chant, but gets distracted by Lalli, who remains slumped against him, unresponsive.

Sigrun notices his state. "Hey, what's with Pipsqueak over here?"

"He, um, he did this thing where his eyes glowed, and it... attacked the monster?" Emil tries. "And then he just collapsed on the spot."

"Hrm." Sigrun crouches to look at Lalli. She lightly slaps her palm against his cheek, but he doesn't respond. His chest is rising and falling, so he is clearly still alive. She gives his body a cursory examination for wounds, and finding none, straightens up. "He doesn't look hurt physically. Probably out cold from shock, is my guess. He'll most likely wake up soon enough, or else the medics back at camp will know what to do." She eyes Emil. "You can carry him, right?"

"Um..." Emil considers it. Lalli is thin, but he isn't  _ that _ small -- just around Emil's height. Was Emil really going to have to carry him all the way back towards camp? 

"Good! Thanks for volunteering!" Sigrun waves a dismissive hand at him, already walking out of the canyon with the other soldiers following behind.

_ Great. Just great. _ Emil bends his knees and gathers Lalli's weight onto his back. He supposes there was  _ some _ benefit to his bag getting destroyed, after all, allowing him to hoist Lalli's legs above his waist and drape his arms over Emil's shoulders. He's heavier than he looks, and smells like fire and forest. With the unconscious scout as secure as he's going to get, Emil hustles to join up with the rest of the group.

"Hey Västerström, good thinking with the fire back there," says Sigrun when he catches up. He's already straining under Lalli's weight but trying not to show it on his face. "Didja remember to get a souvenir from the battle? It's your first time in combat after all. A warrior needs mementos of a fight well fought."

"Uh, no," Emil says. He hadn't thought of it in between being scared for his life and trying not to get eaten by the troll.

"Well then, today's your lucky day," Sigrun says, and holds out what she's holding: a severed foot of the troll, with five bladed talons sticking out. "One talon for each of us!"

"Lovely," Emil says, feeling like he's going to faint now, too.

-*-*-*-

They make it back to Keuruu under an orange sky. Their arrival is heralded by a horn that blows throughout the camp, proudly announcing their victory. Everyone stops what they are doing and gathers around the gate to welcome them back. As they walk in, a cheer rises through the camp. Sigrun proudly strides in front, holding the severed troll foot aloft victoriously. A flask of ale is pressed into her outstretched hand, which she proceeds to chug on the spot to cheers and chanting; "Sigrun! Sigrun! Sigrun!"

Behind the other soldiers, Emil stumbles across the threshold into camp, gasping and panting, Lalli still draped over his shoulders. He knows they're being heralded as heroes, but his body literally will not let him take another step. His knees give out underneath him and he falls down on the dirt floor, pinned underneath Lalli's unconscious body.

"Emil! Lalli! Are you okay?" asks a familiar voice. Emil tilts his head towards the sound and opens one eye to see Tuuri, crouched over them with a frown. "You're hurt! I'll take you both to the medicine tent right away." She gives a shout to someone over her shoulder, and then the enormous, muscle-bound form of Mikkel approaches them where they lie on the ground.

"Up you go," says Mikkel as he hoists Emil over one shoulder and Lalli over the other, like they each weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. As he carries them both to the medical tent, Emil burns with embarrassment. It  _ figures _ the one time he has the chance to be recognized by his peers, it has to be immediately counteracted by these humiliating circumstances.

Mikkel carries them both into the tent, followed closely by Tuuri, who closes the tent flap behind them, shrouding them all in darkness. A match is struck and she lights an oil lamp, which fills the tent with a warm, flickering glow. Then, Mikkel murmurs something about going to get food and leaves the three of them alone together.

Emil finds himself laid out on a stretcher opposite Lalli. "I'm really fine," he protests feebly, although his legs and arms have stopped responding and every part of his body is screaming for rest.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're clearly not fine, or you'd be walking right now," says Tuuri. "Were you carrying my cousin back the whole way? What happened out there?" Her brow creases with worry.

"We fought the troll," Emil says in a near-whisper. "Lalli did... something. I don't know. His eyes glowed, kinda. Is that normal?"

Surprisingly, Tuuri seems to relax a bit. "I see. Yes, that's... normal. Somewhat. A bit careless, though, Lalli," she says, a scolding tone directed towards her cousin.

"I-is he okay? He'll wake up, right?"

"Oh, yes. Probably," Tuuri says, slightly too dismissive-sounding for the situation, in Emil's opinion. "He just over-exerted himself, and now he needs to recharge.

Emil tries to think back to the scene of the fight. "I thought I saw this glowing... shape, that surrounded him for a second. It pushed the troll back. What... what  _ was _ that?"

Tuuri seems uncharacteristically quiet. She sits by her cousin's bedside and smooths her fingers through his spiky hair. His eyes remain closed, even under her touch.

"I think it's best if I tell you a story," Tuuri says very quietly. "About my country.  _ Suomi _ , that is, not Scania."

Emil stiffens a little bit. Referring to the country as  _ Suomi _ out loud was mainly forbidden to members of the King's Army. That was this land's old name, before being annexed into Scania. But he trusted Tuuri, and moreover he felt a burning curiosity about what she was going to say.

"It's a story I was told every night before bed when I was a little girl," Tuuri says softly. "Did you know, they say this land was made by a silver dragon?" 

_ Dragon _ . Emil nearly flinches at the word. Was it possible Tuuri know about his quest? Sigrun certainly hadn't breathed a word to anyone. Had he inadvertently let something slip? Or was it just a coincidence?

"They say she carved the hills into mountains, scattered the seeds which grew the forest, and dug deep scores in the earth that filled with water and became lakes," Tuuri continues. "Her glittering fur fell down from the sky and the land was blanketed with white snow. And all the animals of the forest emerged from that snow and the land came to life. But there were no people. It was like that for quite a long time."

Tuuri's gray eyes gaze off into the middle distance, reflecting the flickering light from the oil lamp. "But then a threat came from outside the land. An enormous giant, which blocked out the sky, tried to devour everything the silver dragon created. She fought to protect Suomi, but the giant dealt her a mortal wound. Her blood fell over the land like rain. And from each and every drop of dragon blood, one of my people was born. We united in strength, and together the people of Suomi were able to defeat the giant and repel its evil from our country, in the name of our creator, the mother-dragon."

Tuuri smooths a hand across Lalli's forehead. "Dragon's blood. That's what they call people who still have a touch of the silver dragon's magic. They are people blessed by the gods with powers that will protect our land. My brother... was one. Lalli is too. He's has had these powers since we were very young. But he hasn't yet mastered it. He doesn't know his limits, and sometimes he over-exerts himself."

Emil tries to process this.  _ If dragons are the protectors of this land, then why did one attack Keuruu? _ It was a pretty story, but nothing in it matched up with the monstrous dragons written about in the military reports, the fire-breathing, civilization-destroying terrors that needed to be eradicated at all costs. Nor did it align with the dragon Emil saw in his dreams, that recognized him and stared into his soul with burning blue eyes.

Someone pushes aside the flap of the tent and Mikkel reenters, carrying several bowls of stew and flasks of ale. One of these he sets down beside Lalli's stretcher, while the other he hands to Emil.

Emil accepts the stew and breathes in the hearty aroma. "Wow, this actually smells... good?"

Mikkel looks aside. "...I... was not assigned to chef duty today."

"Mffh gmphhnhfff," Emil says through a mouthful of stew.  _ Thank goodness. _

It's as Emil is shovelling stew into his mouth that Lalli's form begins to stir and groan. Tuuri gives a little pleased gasp as he opens his eyes and looks up at her, then glances around the tent in confusion.

"It's all right," Emil tells him. "We killed the troll. Then I carried you all the way back to camp."

"Lalli, I'm so glad you're safe," Tuuri says, throwing her arms around him. She then says something in forest-language, most likely admonishing him for taking unnecessary risks. Lalli nods stoically, taking her words in stride, and then says some words himself, before tucking in to his own bowl of stew. Tuuri looks up at Emil.

"He says, thank you for saving his life," Tuuri informs Emil. "Actually, make that a double thanks. From me as well as Lalli. We're both grateful."

"You're, um, welcome," Emil says, feeling slightly awkward. He remembers Lalli pouncing on the troll to force its attention away from Emil. "He saved my life today, too."

In the low light of the hospital tent, Emil feels Lalli's silver-blue eyes watching him in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter inspired mainly by my love of Monster Hunter.  
> (Sigrun would be a long sword main. Lalli is dual blades. Unfortunately, there's no flamethrower weapon class for Emil.)
> 
> Thanks as always for reading, and a special thanks to all who left comments on the last chapter.  
> More to come next week!


	4. Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spirits are high at Keuruu following their successful hunt, but for Emil, something is missing...

As the long summer days wane and the nights lengthen, an announcement is made throughout Keuruu that there will be a day free from work in order to celebrate the summer's end. The progress made towards rebuilding is substantial, and with boats arriving laden with summer harvest from Saimaa, spirits at Keuruu are high following the setback that was the fire at the start of the season.

Although Emil is relieved to have a day off from work, inwardly he is worried that their celebration is too premature. The dragon had destroyed Keuruu in a single night; if it were to return, all of their progress and hard work throughout the summer could be wiped away in minutes. He won't feel comfortable or ready to relax until his secret mission is complete.

Sigrun, on the other hand, seems to have no such qualms about embracing their achievements. Following their successful troll hunt, she's become renowned throughout the camp as Sigrun the Mighty, slayer of abominations, and clearly relishes in all the attention. At least some of her reputation has managed to rub off on Emil as well. The other Scanian soldiers, who at first regarded Emil with indifference or worse, now give him a friendly clap on the shoulder as they pass by, and they even invite him to join in with their bawdy drinking songs by the fire at the end of a hard day's work.

Emil supposes some of his uneasiness is owing to Lalli, who has been behaving rather strangely. Although he's antisocial on even a normal day, the scout seems exceptionally moody and withdrawn lately, refusing the company of Emil and Tuuri alike and stalking away to eat his dinner in solitude. Unwilling to give up on his friend so easily, Emil searches the camp for him until he eventually finds Lalli at the secret shore by the lake, where they'd had their unfortunate encounter on the day Emil first arrived.

Lalli is seated atop a large bounder with his legs crossed and eyes closed, apparently deep in concentration. Emil clears his throat to indicate his presence, and Lalli cracks open one eyelid to glance at him, before closing it again and turning up his nose away from Emil. Emil shrugs and sets down on the ground beside him, sitting by the water's edge. The night comes earlier now than before, and through the mauve sky he can see the first stars beginning to peek out between the clouds. He tears off a piece of bread and chews it as quietly as he can, all the while watching Lalli out of the corner of his eye.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Lalli tenses and his eyes open wide. He's wearing a frantic expression, whites showing all around his silver irises as he leaps to his feet. Emil looks at him curiously.

"Lalli, what--" is all he gets out before Lalli pulls up his scouting hood, vaults off the rock and takes off sprinting into the woods. "Hey, wait a second! Where are you going?" His bowl with the remnants of their meal for that night is left lying on top of the rock where he'd been meditating.

"You forgot your dinner!" Emil calls after him. His words have no effect on Lalli's disappearing form. Unsure what to make of his strange behavior, he shrugs and collects their bowls to bring them back to camp.

"You'll have to forgive Lalli. He just gets like that sometimes," Tuuri says later, in the barracks. Beside them, Lalli's bed stands empty as it does most nights he is out on patrol. "I've long ago given up trying to understand what goes on in his mind. The world he sees is completely different from how we see it. It's important to remember that."

"Different how?"

"I wish I knew how to tell you," Tuuri says with a shrug. Then she leans in closer to Emil and whispers at a volume too low for others to hear. "People with dragon's blood are said to see spirits, and the unseen forces of nature. He can sense evil, too. Maybe tonight he saw something invisible that he needed to take care of."

Emil nods, but the talk of Lalli having dragon's blood still makes his stomach churn a bit. Tuuri is his friend, and she clearly believes all this spiritual stuff, but the more he learns about the forest-people's adoration of dragons, the more off-putting he finds it. It's like worshiping a monster. What if there was a civilization that worshiped trolls, or giants? The very idea of it upsets him.

That, and he's afraid that when he finally succeeds on his quest and slays the dragon, Tuuri will never want to speak to him again...

-*-*-*-

_Emil stares up overhead at the glittering stars reflected by the water in the lake. They are more numerous and in different patterns than he remembers. He's back on the lake's shore again, in the night as bright as day, and with a flash of recognition he realizes, oh, he must be dreaming. He pinches himself, expecting either to not feel anything or to wake up, but instead it just hurts and leaves behind a small red impression on his arm. Emil is confused; he's hardly ever felt pain in a dream before. This must be another one of those unusually vivid dreams._

_This time, low-hanging clouds shroud the lake's surface. The line of stepping-stones is gone, submerged underneath the black lake water. Instead, as Emil turns away from the shore and looks in the direction of the camp, he spies a strange red glow that stains the sky. Like the last time, he feels an unexplainable urge to follow it to its source._

_He sets off along the narrow, tree-lined passageway that links the lakeshore to the main camp. He pushes aside the loose fence board and squeezes through. This dream-version of Keuruu is quiet and pristine, as though the fire never burned through it. But at the edge of camp, towards the rear gate, the red stain on the sky grows brighter. Emil hears a low vibration as he approaches, a multitude of hissing and murmuring voices layered one over the other. The sound puts an uncomfortable pressure on the inside of his mind. He gets a bad feeling, but presses onward regardless._

_It's as he gets to the rear gate that he sees the source of the noise and red light. Just past the borders of the camp, walled off by a protective shield of some sort, is a churning mass of miasma, the color of blood and rot. Inside of its amorphous, swirling mass are hundreds of grotesque forms, including the distorted faces of trolls, the skeletal shapes of beasts, and the massive, gaunt expressions of giants. This roiling force of evil seems to be actively pressing itself up against the walls of Keuruu, straining tendrils against the barrier that prevents it from approaching any closer._

_Standing at the border between the Keuruu camp and the intruding wall of darkness is Lalli._

_He's wearing a different outfit from his regular scouting uniform, with a long fur cloak that trails behind him and a tunic underneath embroidered with rune symbols. His arms are outstretched, as he appears to be projecting the barrier before him. He grits his teeth and strains against the claws and tendrils that batter against the barrier. Sweat drips from his forehead and onto the ground. When he opens his eyes, they are ringed with blue light._

_Emil approaches. At the sound of his footsteps, Lalli glances over his shoulder. His eyes go wide with surprise, and the blue light in his eyes flickers. The darkness takes advantage of this momentary lapse in concentration to surge against the barrier, sending Lalli back several inches._

_"How are you here? Again?" Lalli says through grit teeth, sounding exasperated even as he strains against the miasma. "You aren't even a Mage. There's no reason you should be here!"_

_Again? Emil searches his memory. This is only the second time he's ended up in this particularly vivid dream, and the first time he's met Lalli there. Unless he was watching Emil somehow, that first time._

_"What are you doing? Can I help at all?" Emil asks._

_"No! Go away!" Lalli hisses. "This isn't safe for you. You shouldn't even be in a place like this! You need to leave, now!"_

_"I can't wake up," Emil tells him. "I tried pinching myself and everything. You look like you're struggling. There must be something I can do!"_

_"Mrrrgh. You don't--" Lalli's words are cut off abruptly as the barrier buckles inwards. Lalli shoves back, his eyes glowing brightly, and for a moment Emil sees that spectral form again, with pointed ears and a tail and... wings?_

_"You don't get it," Lalli says, panting. "If I... let these things through, then they'll... find the camp, and... everything... will be... ghhh!" He gasps as a rip appears in the barrier. One of the monsters has forced a tendril through the gap, and more swiftly appear along with it, prying at the weak spot._

_Lalli can't hold them all back, Emil realizes. He needs to do something. This is a dream, right? And if he knows he's dreaming, then he must have some control. He places a hand to his hip, where a sword should be, and feels his grip settle on cold steel. Emil finds himself grinning. He may not have flashy spectral dream powers like Lalli does, but at least he knows the right way to hold a pointy stick._

_Yelling a battle cry, Emil charges towards the gap in the barrier and hacks at the grasping tendrils. The silvery sword severs the monster limbs, and they dissipate into smoke as soon as they are detached from the main body of the miasma. The gap in the barrier seals up, but no sooner has it done so than more tendrils punch through at a different point. Emil dashes to every point of weakness, cleaving and cutting as Lalli forces the mass of darkness back step by step, away from Keuruu._

_Overhead, the sky gets brighter, from pitch-black to a dim blue, which gives Emil hope. The dawn must be coming soon; everybody knows that these monsters abhor the light. If the two of them can keep this up, then together they can keep Keuruu safe from... whatever this is._

_Just as Emil is feeling optimistic, his hopes are shattered when a massive shadow appears on the other side of the barrier. It's a giant; its bulbous head with gaunt, empty-socketed eyes looms taller than the trees. It lifts a single massive arm and presses it against the barrier, which splinters into shards between its fingers. It's too high for Emil to reach with his sword, and too wide to stem the flow of dark monsters, which breach the barrier and come pouring into camp, drooling mouths ravenous, seeking down Emil with an almost vengeful hunger._

_Just as Emil thinks he's about to be overrun, Lalli appears with a clap of blue lightning, his fur cloak swirling as he wraps Emil in a protective aura. There is a flash of white light and_ Emil wakes up in his bed gasping for air.

The quiet of the barracks serves as an utter contrast to the pounding of his heart and the adrenaline coursing through his blood. Just now, Lalli must have forcefully pulled him out of the dream. Emil is safe -- for now, anyway.

But what about Lalli? Was he left behind to fight those monsters alone?

 _Just a dream_ , Emil reminds himself as he lays back down. _It's only a dream._ He trails his gaze over to Lalli's empty bed, and his stomach churns.

Dream or no, it's not a good sign.

-*-*-*-

Later that afternoon, Emil is putting the finishing touches on the door frame for the new gathering hall when Tuuri approaches and taps him on the shoulder.

"Hey Emil, did you happen to see Lalli around anywhere?" she asks.

Emil shakes his head. "I haven't," he tells her. He's strangely flattered by the idea that Tuuri thinks Lalli would go to him first instead of her. He had no idea they were considered that good friends already.

"Oh... alright. Thanks anyway," she says. Her face is a placid smile, but Emil knows her tells by now and can tell that underneath, she's worried.

"Is everything all right?" Scenes from the dream last night play out in Emil's mind. Now he begins to worry, too. _There's no way any of that was real... right?_

Tuuri nods, then upon consideration, shakes her head. "Maybe. I don't know," she says. "He didn't show up for roll call this morning."

"Maybe he's sleeping?"

"I checked the barracks. Underneath your bed, even," Tuuri says. "But no luck. I don't think he came back from patrol last night."

"...Huh." Worry and panic swirl together in Emil's mind. Was that dream a sign? Did Lalli really get jumped by a troll in the woods? "Should we send out a search party to go look for him?"

Tuuri shakes her head vigorously no. "N-no way! I'm sure he's fine. Lalli is capable of surviving for days at a time out in the forest. One time he ran away for a week when we were kids. He doesn't need us to worry about him." Her gaze falls to the ground and she chews her bottom lip, clearly worrying despite what she just said. "Besides... I don't think we can justify sending an entire rescue party for one missing scout. It's not like we even know what direction he went." She closes her eyes and breathes a long sigh. The expression on her face is resigned. "...We'll just have to trust in Lalli. He'll find his way back safely, I know it."

Emil thinks about the dream the previous night. "Tuuri..."

She perks up. "...Yes?"

 _No, wait, nevermind,_ Emil tells himself. _It doesn't mean anything, and you'll just make her worry more._ "...Never mind. I'm sure Lalli will make it back safely. I've seen him fight a troll before, and he's perfectly capable of handling himself."

Tuuri smiles weakly. "You're right, I'm sure. There's no use in worrying, at any rate. We just have to put our trust in Lalli."

Emil nods. _Trust Lalli._ He can do that.

Except one day becomes two, and then three with no sign of Lalli's return. The atmosphere at Keuruu is celebratory, with everyone busy with preparations for the festival at the week's end, but Emil and Tuuri are unable to feel the same. Tuuri takes it particularly hard; Emil watches her normally cheery demeanor fade, as she grows sick with worry. On the third day, she puts in a formal request to send out a recon squad to search for him, but gets told that they won't have the manpower to search the entire forest for a single scout until after the festival is over. Dejected and sullen, she retreats into their private quarters.

On the fourth day, the one immediately preceding the festival, Emil caves and tells her about his dream with Lalli in it.

" _What?!_ " her voice rises to a squeak. "Emil! Why didn't you mention this earlier?!"

"I thought it was just a dream. It doesn't matter. I didn't want to make you worry," Emil says.

Tuuri's seated on top of her bed, hunched over, her chin buried in her crossed arms. "Well, it hasn't worked. I've been worried anyway," she says sulkily.

"...Do you really think it means something?"

"Of _course_ it does! Emil, mages like Lalli can walk through the world of dreams. It's just as real to them as the waking world is to us!" She covers her face with her hands. "Oh, this is bad, bad, bad!"

Emil reaches out a hand to place on her arm in an attempt to soothe her somewhat. "Is there anything we can do?"

Tuuri shakes her head in her hands, her shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs. After a minute her trembling stills, and she looks up. Her grey-eyed gaze is steely.

"...There is one thing," she says.

"What?"

She looks Emil up and down. Her eyes fall to the sword on his hip. Then she looks up again and locks eyes with him. "We go and look for him ourselves."

"Wha-- Tuuri, _no!_ " Emil protests. "If we disobey orders and leave Keuruu, that would qualify as mutiny. You're proposing we become deserters?"

Tuuri sniffs. Her expression is fiery. "I don't care about any of that! They clearly don't care about me and my cousin. We're just a couple of disposable soldiers to them. What good is this Army if it can't even protect the ones we love?!"

Panic rises in Emil's chest. He needs to talk Tuuri down before she does something reckless. "Tuuri... You're not a fighter. If a troll attacked us, I couldn't defend you all by myself! What you're proposing is basically a suicide mission!"

"I don't care about danger. I just want to see Lalli again," Tuuri says with a hiccuping sob.

Something soft inside of Emil breaks. He sits down on the bed beside her. After a moment's hesitation, he reaches one arm around her and feels her lean into his body. Her shoulders shudder with suppressed sobs.

"He's all I have left," Tuuri says, her voice hoarse. "After Onni disappeared, and the trolls took our home village in Saimaa, Lalli and I have been each other's only family since we were just kids. I c-can't just sit around all useless when he's in trouble. I can't!"

"Ssssh," Emil says, holding her close. "Tuuri. You're like, the smartest person I know. This isn't like you. What would Lalli say if he found out what you're planning? That you're recklessly putting your own life in danger?" Emil shakes his head. "Lalli's a... pretty weird guy. But I know he cares about you, just as much as you care about him. He wouldn't want you throwing your life away for his sake."

Tuuri's shaking quells into quiet sobs. "Then what do you suggest I do? Just sit around all useless when Lalli's out there, in danger?"

"We'll find him," Emil promises. "After the festival is over. We'll get a real search party together. I'll even get Sigrun to lead it. We'll cross the whole forest, if that's what it takes. We won't rest until he's found."

"R-really?" Tuuri exhales shakily.

"I promise." Emil holds her close. "I miss him, too." He says it without hesitation. Somehow, despite Lalli's prickly personality and the language barrier between them, Emil finds him more important and interesting than the rest of the soldiers of Keuruu combined. The brief times they spend together are like a splash of color in an otherwise monochrome world. There's something intangible that ties them together... and if Lalli is gone, Emil will never truly understand the nature of that connection.

Emil tries not to think about the possibility of never seeing Lalli again. He really, really hopes that's not the case.

They finish up preparations for the festival that night. In the morning, the dawn rises without the familiar morning horn's call, giving the soldiers the leisure to sleep in or pass time as they please. Emil feels as though he hasn't slept properly in nearly a week; he rises groggily to the sounds of cheering, chanting and pounding on leather drums outside. He stumbles to his feet and out the door without bothering to put on his soldier's uniform as normal or even to try and fix his hair.

Outside, the festivities and revelry have begun. A circle of forest-people are seated around a small fire, playing some harp-like instrument and beating a drum. On their newly-built tables, some of the men are playing cards while others are already sipping from flasks of ale, despite it still being the morning. In the open space at the center of the camp, soldiers are holding archery competitions, jogging around the base, or simply lazing around.

It's all a bit too much for Emil, this bright sunlight and joyful celebration. He walks over towards the kitchens where baskets filled with fresh fruit are set out. Taking an apple from the top of the pile, he considers what he should do with his free time. None of the sports or games or music holds any interest for him at the moment; he just feels exhausted in his body and soul.

He returns to his room in the barracks and closes the door behind him. He gets out the old rucksack that he'd brought with him on the boat to Keuruu and fishes out the book of traditional Scanian poetry that lies in an inner pocket. He tries to read some of his favorite poems, but his eyes blur over before he can finish a stanza, and he realizes he's crying.

 _Damn it,_ he thinks, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eyes and sniffling. _Grow the hell up, Emil._ Tuuri's tears were completely reasonable; Lalli was her only family, after all. But Emil has hardly known him for a season. Less than that, actually. He's being sensitive and un-soldier-like again. Sigrun had warned him that it would be difficult, that he'd lose men, some of his best friends even, but hearing those words and actually living it were two completely different worlds.

The bright rays of sunlight that pierce through the narrow window of the barracks happen to fall across Emil's bed, shining uncomfortably into his eyes. Emil squints and raises a hand to block it out, but then he has a better idea. Snatching a blanket from his bed, he steps down onto the floor and then proceeds to roll underneath his bed frame. It's cooler on the ground, and cramped, but also dark and quiet. He's beginning to understand why Lalli chose this method. There's just enough light to read by, and so he does, turning the pages one by one as his eyes trace over the familiar words like an old friend.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because he awakens with the book covering his face as the door to the shared room slams open. In stumbles Sigrun, in full plate armor for some reason and clearly intoxicated.

"Eeeeemillll," she slurs, propping herself up on one of the bed frames. "I know yer in there. You've been sleeping the whole--" she hiccups, "--day away, you know?"

Emil tries to sit up but manages to hit his head on the under-frame of the bed. Swearing, he scrambles out from underneath to meet eyes with Sigrun, red-faced and his hair a complete mess. He's never behaved like this; he should feel more guilt about showing his face to his Captain like this, but instead, Emil just feels... empty.

Sigrun eyes him through half-lidded eyes. Her face is flushed. "Whoa. What happened to you, soldier?" she asks. "You look like a mess."

"I..." Emil sighs. He can't do this right now. He sits heavily on his bed. "...I don't know," he tells her.

"Don't you try an' hide it," she says. "There's a festival, and you're just in here, hidin' under yer own bed. _Clearly_ something's up. You and that little fluffy one are both are actin' all... sad and stuff."

"It's Lalli," he admits. He takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself. "He -- he hasn't returned from patrol."

Instantly a change passes over Sigrun's demeanor. She straightens up, and her eyes seem to focus, although the red flush in her cheeks remains.

"The little scout guy? He's missing?"

Emil nods. "It's been almost a week," he says hoarsely, and his voice cracks on the last word.

Sigrun straightens up. She crosses over to Emil and sits on the bed opposite him. With her height, she normally towers over him, but like this they are eye to eye. "Västerström. Emil. Lisssen to me," she says, with only a very slight drunken lisp to her words.

Emil's stomach curdles in anticipation of what she'll say. He's sure she's going to admonish him for being weak, for giving in to his emotions, or for not looking out properly for his comrades.

"When I was a cadet in training," she starts, "I had someone, jus' like you. Lisbeth. Was her name," she says. She wears a far-off look in her eye uncharacteristic of her usual brash demeanor. "We did everything together. Sisters in arms, we were. An'... more than that. I would've given my life for her."

Emil peers at her curiously. This is a side of Sigrun he has never seen before.

"We were deployed. Up in the far north. Sun didn't rise for weeks. But Lisbeth... s'long as she was with me, it was like I always had the sun right here." She pats a fist against her chest. It clanks against her plate mail.

Emil knows where this is going. He doesn't like it, but at this point he's resigned to it. "...What happened?"

"Always thought I'd be the one to go before she did," Sigrun says. "Took some stupid risks. We were all like that back then, dumb and hungry for blood. But it wasn't the battlefield that took her, it was the Black Rot. Swept through the camp. We couldn't get the medicine in time. One week she was there. The next week her bed was empty." She shakes her head. "Lost around a quarter of our men in all. We couldn't even bury them until the spring."

"Sigrun..." Emil studies her closely, for maybe the first time since he's been in her command sees a woman, not just a warrior. She's only around a decade older than him -- albeit vastly more experienced. But he notices the faded scars on her cheeks, the many chips in her armor. Without her confident swagger, and with the drink making her movements slow, she seems a lot older than her thirty-two years.

"Everyone at that camp lost someone they knew. But!" Sigrun straightens her back. The fiery glint is back in her eyes. "That same week, we got word that a nearby village was under attack by sea beasts. Do you think we didn't still fight? Do you think we were so caught up mourning our dead that we forgot our duty?"

"No."

"No!" She pounds a fist into the bed frame, which shudders with the impact. "Because this fight is bigger than any one of us! These monsters, they aren't all emotional like we are. They never mourn their dead. And they won't stop until they kill all of us, or we kill them. That is the nature of war." She claps a hand on Emil's shoulder and stares dead into his eyes. "You either face it, or you join the fallen."

"...Yes, sir," Emil says. His heart is pounding against his chest for some reason. He remembers the relentless, swirling miasma of evil in his dream. _That's_ what they're up against.

"His name is Lalli, right? Your boyfriend," says Sigrun.

Emil splutters, caught off-guard by her question. "Wha-what? U-um, no, you've got it wrong..." A crimson blush rises in his cheeks. "I mean, yes, his name is Lalli, but--"

Sigrun tilts her head. She's wearing that tell-tale smirk she always wears when teasing him. "Oh really? My mishtake then," she says, her voice regaining its drunken lisp. "You don't know for sure that he's dead, do ya? He could still be out there."

"Y-yes! Actually, that's-- I wanted to ask you if we could--"

"Tomorrow, we'll put out a party of our finesht trackers, and we'll find the pipsqueak," Sigrun proclaims.

"Th-thank you, sir," Emil says, gratitude blooming in his chest.

Sigrun reaches out and ruffles Emil's hair. He usually hates that, but his hair looks messy enough that she can't make it any worse. "'Course. That lil' guy's a decent fighter. Be a shame if we lost 'im. Also since you two're clearly better off together. An' I hate seeing his cousin's happy face all mopey. Iss not right."

"...Yeah," Emil agrees, remembering how broken up Tuuri had been. He never wants to see her like that again.

Sigrun stands up with the clank of armor. "Now that you've got all that outta your system," she says, and gestures to the exit. "Move your sorry ass already an' join us at the feast!"

"...Yes, sir," Emil says, less reluctantly than before. He looks down at his grubby sleep clothes and touches his messy hair. "Um, I'll need some time to to clean myself up. Sir."

Sigrun shrugs. "Suit yourshelf," she says, and stumbles to the door. She casts a glance back over her shoulder. "But if you don't show up tonight, it'll be extra work detail for you in the morning, soldier!"

She departs, the door swinging in her wake, and Emil immediately sets to work making himself look presentable again. He takes out the small mirror he keeps in his bag and uses it to fix his hair. He almost doesn't recognize the face that stares back at him, with tracks of dried tears on his cheeks and a perpetual crease in his brow. He takes a deep breath, and when he exhales, he feels slightly closer to normal.

As he dons his soldier's tunic -- the only nice-looking clothing he has anymore, really -- he feels something soft brush up against his pants leg. The orange-and-white cat has slipped into the room through the door that Sigrun left ajar.

"Mrrrt?" she trills at him.

Emil gives her ears a scratch. "Hi there, kitty," he says, before glancing towards the window. It's still daylight, but the sun's rays have begun turning golden, and the shadows are growing longer. Before too long, night will arrive, and the celebration they've been preparing for so long can truly begin. He might as well face it and stop hiding from reality.

He pushes open the door and ventures out into the camp.

The festival is far livelier than it had been in the morning, due in part to the very large bonfire that has been built up in the firepit. Emil can feel its heat from almost twenty paces away. Around the fire, a circle of forest-people are playing instruments, and some are dancing. An enormous barrel of ale has been rolled into the center of the camp, its lid removed, and soldiers are lined up to fill their flasks with the amber drink.

Emil has a thought that he should find Tuuri, to tell her what Sigrun had promised about the search party for Lalli. Before he has a chance to go look for her, though, one of his fellow Scanian soldiers notices him standing there and calls out to him.

"Hey, Emil's here! Somebody get him a drink!"

Emil stands there, stunned while someone presses a full flagon of ale into his hands. Someone's arm is slung around his other shoulder and he finds himself herded towards the fire.

"So, Emil, Sigrun was sayin' how you've got a fancy education and all that," the other soldier says. "Said you know how to play an instrument an' everything. So c'mon, fancy man, what have you got for us?"

"I, ummm..." Emil is momentarily at a loss for words. "I can sorta play violin, I guess...?" He wasn't particularly talented or disciplined, back when he was learning, and he hasn't played since... well, since before the Army. He knows how to hold it right, but that's about it.

"We haven't got one of those. Maybe you'd be better at playing the skin flute, after all."

Emil gives him a confused look. "What's that...?"

Instead of answering his question, the soldier bursts into laughter. Some of the other men around him laugh too. Emil gets the distinct impression of missing the joke and that they are laughing at his expense. He turns to face the fire so that they won't see the blush on his face, and changes the subject.

"A-anyway, are they gonna serve us some food anytime soon?" he asks. The smells coming from the kitchens today are unusually appealing, and serve to remind Emil of how little he's eaten today.

"We have ale! But I hear dinner will be ready soon," says one of the other soldiers.

Emil tries to hide behind his flask. He sips at the ale but finds it thoroughly unappetizing at the moment. He supposes he should try and enjoy himself while he's here. The music is at least nice, when all the instruments aren't playing at once that is. He's definitely not up for dancing, so instead, he stares into the heart of the fire. After a moment of consideration, he gets up and tosses another log on top, and stares as the fire licks up its edges and splits it at the seams. It's strangely soothing.

The daylight fades into dusk, and an announcement is made that the feast will begin, to raucous cheers throughout the camp. A whole roast reindeer is brought out, with Mikkel standing by its side wielding a knife to carve off parts of its flank into the waiting bowls of hungry soldiers. Emil lines up to receive his portion, and when Mikkel sees him, he raises an eyebrow and flashes Emil a thumbs-up. Emil tries to smile back; what he manages is a sort of half-hearted showing of teeth. He takes his cut of meat and returns to his seat by the fire.

As Emil eats and stares into the flames, he thinks about how Lalli would probably feel similarly about this festival, if he were here. Too much noise and drunken revelry. In another life, Emil might have loved this, but today, it only serves to contrast the sense of loneliness and loss he feels inside.

The bonfire burns like a small sun, and the waves of its dry heat ruffle Emil's hair. It smells of smoke and forest, a familiar scent. Staring into it makes Emil feel incrementally better, so he takes it on himself to quietly stoke it for a while so that he can avoid talking to anyone.

Darkness falls across Keuruu. There is a break in the music and someone loudly bangs a pot to get everybody's attention. The Major that oversees the outpost announces that due to everybody's hard work over the summer, they have successfully rebuilt almost everything that was lost in the fire. Emil hears the word _dragon_ murmured among the crowd of soldiers and feels a chill down his spine. They then go on to proclaim that with their added reinforcements from the Scania mainland, they next would embark on a ship-building project to expand their influence down the waterway and repel any aquatic Beasts or rebel insurgents that threaten their supply route. With extra patrols and more food and supplies coming in from Saimaa, at this rate they were sure to be in good shape for when winter arrives.

As he speaks, a warm wind starts to blow, ruffling Emil's hair and throwing the bonfire into erratic shapes. He thinks little of it at first, but then the speaker goes quiet, and there is a murmuring through the crowd, with people pointing to the sky.

Emil looks up, and the color drains from his face.

An enormous creature sails over Keuruu on leathery wings, lit from below by the crackling bonfire. From below, all that's visible is mainly its silhouette, but Emil knows with absolute certainty that it is the dragon again, the very same one from his dream.

The dragon pivots in midair and flaps its wings, creating a gust of wind that sends musical instruments and flasks of ale alike crashing to the ground. It circles overhead like a bird of prey, watching the ground below with glowing blue eyes.

It's difficult for Emil to tear his gaze away, but he does momentarily to see his fellow soldiers' expressions. The Scanian soldiers are readying their swords and bows. Meanwhile, the forest-people are simply standing there in awe. In the distance, nearby the kitchens, Emil spies Tuuri. She's also looking up at the dragon, but her face is too far away to read her expression.

He feels a heavy hand clap itself on his shoulder, and looks over at Sigrun. Her violet eyes are reflecting the firelight with an almost manic expression on her face. She grins wide and presses an object into Emil's hands: a crossbow.

"I can't believe this! The gods must be smiling on us today," she says, pointing up at the dragon. "This is it, Emil! You're not gonna get a better shot than this. Time to do your duty! For Scania!"

Emil accepts the crossbow with shaking hands. Everything is happening so fast that he is paralyzed; he cannot take his eyes off the dragon, turning circles in the sky overhead.

 _Why is it not attacking?_ Emil wonders.

Belatedly, a warning horn blows, signalling an incoming attack. Emil thinks it's just the dragon, at first, but then he hears from behind him a scratching and skittering sound, punctuated with a scream.

Emil whirls around. Climbing over the top of the fence and pouring into the middle of the Keuruu base are dozens of beasts: small, ragged monsters the size of dogs but with too many legs, with knobbly reddish flesh stretched over deformed bones that poke out from their skin. Their blank, clouded eyes search hungrily as they pounce upon anything edible in their vicinity, provoking screams from drunk soldiers as they sink jagged teeth into soft flesh.

Dread fills Emil's chest. So that nightmare really _wasn't_ just a dream. Evil truly was coming to Keuruu. Lalli could only hold it off for so long before it found them.

Beside Emil, Sigrun draws her longsword. In a single, deft strike, she hacks off the head of one of the charging beasts, then spins around and severs the spine of another. "Don't lose focus, Emil!" she shouts. "We'll handle these smaller monsters. You need to take down that dragon!"

Amidst all the chaos, Emil breathes. _That's right,_ he thinks. _I came here to Keuruu for one reason. Once this dragon is dead, that means I can leave._ A strange calm takes him over. He points his crossbow skyward.

Overhead, the dragon whirls between volleys of arrows. Despite its large size, it is agile in the air, carving through the wind with its massive wings. It's not using its fire breath, which is the only reason they all still have a fighting chance: once it starts spitting fire, the fight will be over instantly. Emil has to take it down before that happens. Emil steps back, one finger placed on the trigger, and waits for the right moment.

 _There._ The dragon folds in its wings to go for a dive, evading an arrow shot that whiffs past its pointed ears. Just moments before it collides with the earth, it spreads its wings out wide to halt its descent. The blast of wind is so fierce that it knocks soldiers and beasts alike off their feet, but Emil stays steady. He aims his crossbow squarely at the dragon's wing.

Before he pulls the trigger, he looks up and sees the dragon's eyes, glowing starlight blue. They burn with an intensity of emotion and intelligence that is completely different from any other monster. Despite the utter inhumanity of it, something about the dragon's gaze seems almost... familiar?

Emil squeezes the trigger. The firing mechanism disengages, sending its bolt whistling through the air just as the dragon is rising back up into the sky. It happens too fast for the eye to see it collide, but the dragon suddenly falters, thrashing in the sky as it loses altitude. When it spreads its wings to correct its descent, its flight is crooked, and streaks of blood run across its injured wing.

The other soldiers immediately notice its weakening and take advantage. A thrown spear grazes its underbelly, sending blood drops and scraps of silver fur raining down over the fray. A deftly-shot arrow hits its shoulder just below the wing, and the dragon actually screams, a bone-rattling sound unlike any that Emil has heard before. If this keeps up, they will ground the dragon for good and be able to finish it off. Both Emil and the dragon know this; fear shines in its glowing eyes as it furiously flaps its wings in an effort to escape its fate.

Emil isn't going to let that happen. As the dragon flies towards the edge of the Keuruu base, slowed by its wobbly flight and the hail of arrows, Emil takes after it at a sprint. The rear gates are shut tight, so Emil rapidly ascends the steps to the watchtower.  As Emil reaches the top, he pauses for just a moment despite himself. Down below, on the other side of the gate, teems a seething mass of trolls and beasts, the likes of which Emil has seen before only in his dreams. Their grasping claws and hungry mouths scrape at the walls of Keuruu. If they breach the gates, it's all over for everybody.

Just then, the dragon passes over the the fence, using its front legs to clamber over the top and leaving bloodied pawprints behind. A crazy idea flashes in Emil's mind, and he sees his chance. _We may all be doomed, but this way, if I die maybe I'll end up in Valhalla like Sigrun always says._ As the dragon passes within range, he flings the crossbow aside and leaps from the top of the tower onto its back. He grabs bundles of silver fur in his hands and holds on for dear life.

The dragon bucks and thrashes, unaccustomed to Emil's sudden weight, and together they pitch downwards, towards the hungering mouths of the army of trolls. Just before they collide with the ground, the dragon flaps its wings furiously and they are airborne again, though not without sustaining a long, bloody scrape on its hind legs and tail from the trolls' grasping claws.

They gain some altitude, and momentarily crest the tops of the trees. The dark forest spreads beneath them, and the wind whistles through Emil's hair. Beyond and overhead, a massive cumulonimbus cloud rumbles with thunder. It feels like the end of the world.

The dragon pitches downward, still fighting and thrashing to throw Emil off its back. In its desperation, it clips the top of a tree with its injured wing and completely loses control in the air. Emil loses grasp with one of his hands as the dragon spirals through the air, plummeting like a cannonball deep towards the heart of the forest.

The last thing Emil remembers is the tops of evergreen trees rising up to meet them, before crashing through the canopy and into utter and complete darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> More coming next week. :)


	5. Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil dreams, and wakes.

 

_Emil sits alone at the dining table in his family's dinner parlor. Before him is a decadent spread of food: roasted duck, sweetmeats, candied plums, fruit tarts, cream-frosted cakes, and even more delicacies than he could ever possibly eat on his own, all arranged artfully over the ornate tablecloth. Emil, however, isn't hungry. The empty feeling that claws inside of him is some other sensation that cannot be addressed with rich food and a life of comfort._

_He stands up, pushing his chair away from the table, and leaves the room. He wanders the halls of his family home, but the floor pattern isn't the same as in his memory. He turns right five times before he realizes that, maybe, this is no ordinary house. Every time he takes a left, he ends up back in the room with the feast. Curious to see if there is a limit, he spends quite some time following hallway after hallway, each of them perfectly straight and at right-angles to one another, yet obeying no law of space and time that ought to exist. When he forgets his objective and accidentally takes a left instead of a right, and ends up back in the room with the feast again, he stomps his foot in frustration._

_After taking a moment to compose himself and wrangle his own emotions back under control, Emil notices the dining room's wide window for the first time. It provides a view that overlooks the grounds of the Västerström estate. It's a winter's night, and fat flakes of snow drift ponderously through the air. Past the rise of the nearest snow-covered hill, there is a strange, flickering light, illuminating the falling snow from below._

_As soon as he notices the light, Emil also sees a door embedded in the wall. He turns the knob and a blast of cold winter air rushes in. The snow has accumulated to around knee height on the other side of the door. Nevertheless, Emil feels certain that he needs to go to whatever is casting that flickering light. He lifts a foot and takes a tentative step into the deep snow. It's light, soft, and crunches underfoot. He shuffles outside and closes the door behind him._

_Outside, it is quiet in that unique and particular way that it only gets during a snowstorm at night. The fluffy flakes muffle all sound, making the crunching of his boots against the snow seem loud in comparison. His breath forms puffs of mist around his face, and the snowflakes settle in his hair and eyelashes as he presses onwards towards whatever is casting the light._

_He clears the top of the hill, when he sees it: their barn, where they kept the small herd of rare heirloom sheep and the one ornery goat, is on fire. A cavernous hole has opened in its roof, and flames lick up its walls. Worse, the fire seems to be spreading to the adjacent shed, and soon might leap to the house itself. Emil stumbles through the deep snow, rushing towards the fire to try and see what can be done to salvage the situation._

_As he comes into view of the interior of the burning barn, however, he stops cold. One entire side of the barn is torn out. And there, lying in the center of the ring of fire from where it presumably crash-landed, is the dragon._

_Its body is bloodied and broken, but it's breathing: the massive, furred chest rises slowly up and down with the bellows of its breath. Emil stalks closer. The dragon looks to be unconscious, based on the way that it doesn't respond to the sound of his muffled footsteps or the sheen of steel as Emil draws his sword. He steps over some burning planks until he is within striking distance, and he raises his sword, poised to drive it straight into the dragon's skull._

_"This is all your fault," Emil says. The burning roof and walls of the barn crackle around them. "You caused this. You cost me-- everything," he says, voice cracking. His hands shake around the grip of his sword. "You're a monster, and monsters don't belong in this world." Emil closes his eyes in preparation of what he's about to do._

_A burning bright light shines through Emil's closed eyelids, and he opens them just moments before his sword aims true. He sees the dragon's entire body composed of blue light. Then, it starts to shrink before his eyes, its larger form fading away. The furthest points go first, with the tips of its tail, paws, and leathery wings disintegrating into glittering starlight. The light coalesces into a form that is roughly human-shaped, lying on the ruined barn floor._

_The light fades, and there is an unconscious human form where the dragon once was. Emil has an immediate flash of recognition, and feels his body go limp. He falls to his knees, his sword clattering uselessly to the floor._

_"Lalli... why..." Emil begs of the unconscious person before him. "Why is it you...?"_

_All around them, the flames swirl and eat away at the wooden structure, sending sparks dancing up into the snowbound night._

-*-*-*-

Emil awakens to the sound of rain.

Raindrops hiss through the needles of the tree canopy and patter onto the ground. Distant thunder rolls across the forest. The clean, relaxing scent of earth-after-rain fills the air. Emil opens his eyes.

He's in some type of makeshift shelter inside the hollowed-out roots of a tree, laid out on a soft bed of pine needles. Dead leaves lie piled-up against the wooden interior of the hollow. He glances up and notices a leather canvas stretched overhead, with drops of rain pinging off the top and rolling aside. Despite the raging storm outside, he finds himself warm and mostly dry.

He attempts to sit up, but a piercing pain in his arm causes him to cry out in agony. He looks down and notices his left arm is swollen and purple. The splitting pain emerges from deep within the bone, and Emil realizes it must be fractured or broken. He doubles over with a gasp, but doing so provokes another spike of pain.

His pained shouts produce a rustling, and what he thought was a pile of leaves reveals itself to be a person, who sits up and casts a bleary-eyed glance over at Emil. His hair is filled with leaves, and his face criss-crossed with shallow scrapes and scratches, but there can be no mistaking his scout's uniform, thin frame, grey hair and silver eyes.

"Lalli!" Emil exclaims. "It's really you-- you're alive?!" Relief washes over him, temporarily causing him to forget about the pain in his arm. Then the pain returns with a vengeance, and in addition to his arm Emil feels a splitting pain in his chest, coming from around his ribcage area. _Great_. He must have fractured a rib in the fall.

 _The fall. The dragon. The attack on Keuruu._ Emil's memories rush back in all at once. He gasps, and tears form in the corners of his eyes, whether due to the pain or the sudden onset of emotion or both. He's lucky to be alive right now. Injured, but alive.

Lalli, upon noticing him trying to sit up, gives an unmistakable sigh of exasperation and approaches Emil, crawling on his hands and knees. He moves gingerly, as though in pain too. Lalli reaches out to Emil's shoulder and gently pushes him back down.

"Hurt. Need to rest," Lalli says in an almost-whisper.

Emil wants to object -- he has so many questions! -- but already the inviting embrace of sleep seems a welcome escape from the pain in his arm and chest.

With the sound of rain as a lullaby, Emil drifts into dreamless oblivion.

-*-*-*-

When Emil next wakes up, the storm has quieted its thunder, and some weak, gray daylight peeks in through the cracks of the tent. The murmuring sounds of forest life abound in the damp hazy light, from birds squawking in the treetops to the shuffling of small creatures in the undergrowth. There is the distant rush of a babbling brook, surely swollen due to the rainstorm. The pain is burning less furiously than it was the previous time he awoke, making consciousness bearable for now. It's humid and fairly stuffy inside the tree hollow, and Emil uses his good arm to wipe beads of sweat off his brow.

He gingerly sits up, mindful of his injured rib, and looks about. This time, Lalli is nowhere in sight, although there is evidence that shows he has been here recently, from the pile of leaves in disarray, to -- Emil studies a bit closer -- the small cache of nuts and mushrooms that are stashed behind a large rock.

He has never been a big fan of nuts, but just then his stomach rumbles and he realizes he has no idea how long it's been since he's last eaten. Judging by the abundance of daylight, at least a full night has passed since the attack on Keuruu. It could even have been longer, but with no frame of reference, Emil doesn't have a clue. All he knows is that he's alive, and Lalli is alive too, and that they're in the woods... somewhere.

He doesn't know what happened to the dragon, or to his fellow soldiers at Keuruu base. Sigrun, he decides, is probably fine, given her prior experience fighting against beasts and trolls. But he wonders about the rest of the people at the base, like the incompetent chef Mikkel, and especially Tuuri.

 _I need to get back there as soon as I can,_ he thinks. Otherwise, all this worrying will eat him alive. Also, he probably needs medical attention.

He supposes Lalli won't mind if he eats some of the nuts. They must have been set aside for him, after all. He grabs a handful and hopes they aren't poisonous before he tips them back into his mouth.

Of course, it's the moment his mouth is full of nuts that Lalli makes his return. He ducks his head underneath the tarp and enters the hollow, crouched beneath the low ceiling. He shakes the raindrops off his scout's uniform, scattering droplets across the pine needle floor. When he spies Emil sitting up with his hand over his mouth and eyes wide, he arches an eyebrow, as if to say, _really?_

Emil forces himself to chew and swallow as quickly as he can without choking. The nuts are bitter and woody, and they grit against his teeth. It's second only to Mikkel's cooking in terms of the most unpleasant meal experience he's had in his life. Nevertheless, he gets it down, and after he finishes chewing, he looks up to see that Lalli is holding out a waterskin for him to take.

"Thanks," Emil tells him, accepting the waterskin and guzzling its contents, washing away the taste of dirt and pine needles. He keeps drinking, not having realized before how thirsty he was, until he drains it entirely.

He gives a satisfied gasp and wipes a hand over his mouth. With water and some food in his belly, he is becoming more lucid each passing moment. And at the forefront of his awareness is Lalli. Who he's pretty certain just saved his life. Again. He's really building up a serious life debt to this guy.

"Where are we?" Emil asks, gesturing at the secluded tree hollow around them.

Lalli blinks. "The forest," he tells Emil.

Emil rolls his eyes. "I gathered that," he says. "I meant, how did we get here?"

Lalli looks away and down. He scratches a finger through the dirt, and pointedly doesn't answer Emil's question.

"Because the last thing I remember, I was..." Emil searches his memory. "...Falling through the sky on the back of a dragon. Does that ring any bells for you?"

At the word _dragon_ , Lalli's eyes widen. But still he says nothing, and refuses to meet Emil's eye.

"Did you see what happened to the dragon? Where it went?" Emil is starting to grow frustrated. "Come on, Lalli. I _know_ you understand Scanian way better than you speak it."

Lalli's eyes flash as he looks up at Emil finally. "I do not know," he says, his tone icy.

Emil is taken aback by Lalli's hostility. He'd hoped that after saving each other's lives so much, they could at _least_ hope to carry on a regular conversation. But Lalli's behavior is still so reserved and standoffish. It feels like there is a chasm between them, despite being holed up together in this tiny hollow.

He's not gonna be able to rest until he manages to bridge that chasm, even just a little. To do that, he'll need to take a softer approach in order to get underneath Lalli's prickly exterior.

"Well, I don't know how you did it, but... you saved me," he says, making sure to catch Lalli's eye. He smiles despite the pain in arm and his chest. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now. Seriously, thanks."

"Hrmph." Lalli looks away again. _What, not so much as a 'you're welcome'?_ Lalli was rude on a normal day, but on this day in particular he seemed to be in a mood. Nevertheless, his grumpy behavior could do little to dull Emil's excitement over having him back alive and in one piece.

"When you went missing, we thought something had happened," Emil says, filling the silence. "Tuuri was worried sick. I was, too."

At the mention of his cousin's name, Lalli perks up. "Tuuri," he says. "Is she okay?"

Emil chews his bottom lip. "I... don't know," he says honestly. "She was in a bad way the last time we spoke. I had to talk her out of running off into the woods in search of you. She was ready to throw away everything just to make sure you were safe." He frowns. "Seriously, what were you thinking, disappearing on us like that?"

"Had to do... something," Lalli says, his face showing the tell that he's hiding something. He and Tuuri have that in common, Emil has noticed. Either being bad at lying is a Hotakainen family trait, or Emil knows them well enough to tell whenever they're hiding the truth.

Fortunately, Emil has an idea of what led to Lalli's disappearance. "Did it have anything to do with a dream where you were holding off an army of trolls and monsters at the gates of Keuruu?"

Lalli looks at Emil, eyes wide in a shocked expression. "You... remember?"

"Yeah," Emil says. _So it wasn't just a dream._ "No way I could forget something like that."

"How..." Lalli looks confused and concerned. "But you're not..."

Emil shrugs. "Beats me," he says. He studies Lalli curiously. "So it's real, isn't it? All this... magic stuff Tuuri was talking about. How you can sense spirits and evil monsters, and travel in dreams, and cast spells and all that." he says, wiggling his fingers to mimic casting a magic spell.

Lalli glares at him, annoyed, and doesn't say anything at first. Then as Emil continues wiggling his fingers at him, he sighs and gives in. "...Yes," he admits. "It's real."

Emil stops wiggling his fingers. "I never..." He turns his hand over and stares at the open palm, callused from the months spent training with a sword. "There's so much more in this world than I ever thought was possible." _Like magic and dragons and dreams turned real..._

Thinking about dreams causes another, more recent memory to resurface, of the last vividly-real dream he'd had, his family's estate and the burning barn and the dragon. He knows it was a dream, but he still could feel the flickering heat of the flames on his face. He'd been ready to do it; had summoned up his conviction to deliver the finishing blow with his sword. But then -- suddenly -- _Lalli--_

"You really are weird," Lalli says, all of a sudden, distracting Emil, who looks up. Lalli's silver eyes glint in the low light of the hollow.

 _Silver eyes. Silver fur._ _No...!_ Emil shakes his head. "Maybe I am," he admits. He laughs out loud, a forced and awkward sound, which quickly becomes a cough, that in turn causes a splitting pain to bloom from his ribcage. He clutches at his chest. "Oww..."

Lalli moves too quickly for the eye to follow, and in an instant has crossed the tiny space between them. They're way too close; Emil's heartbeat jumps into his throat as Lalli leans over him, placing a slender hand across his chest, listening closely. After a moment he pulls back, and looks at Emil with serious eyes.

"You're hurt," he says matter-of-factly. He points to Emil's chest. "Here."

 _My heart?_ Emil thinks crazily. Oh. No. It's his ribs. "Nhh. Yeah," he says through grit teeth. "Must have messed it up in the fall. My arm's useless too." Even trying to shift his left arm sends red-hot flashes of pain through his his body.

"Hrm." Lalli leans back, and reaches into one of the pockets of his scouting uniform to pull out a handful of what looks like some kind of moss. "Eat this."

"What is-- _mmph!_ " is all Emil gets out before Lalli shoves the wad of moss in Emil's mouth without warning. He gags, and immediately tries to spit it out. "Ugh! That tastes horrible! What the hell was that for?!"

Undeterred, Lalli tries again. " _Eat,_ " he insists, but this time Emil stubbornly refuses to open his mouth, like when he was a picky eater growing up. Lalli eventually gives a sigh of exasperation. " _Medicine,_ " he explains, as though talking down to a child.

"...Oh," Emil says, and stops resisting. The moss really does taste disgusting though, more bitter and earthy than even the nuts, and Emil cannot help making a face as he chews it and swallows. Lalli leans back, muttering something underneath his breath that Emil doesn't understand. Then his eyes flash blue, and he places one hand over Emil's chest. Emil feels a warm, tingling sensation radiate outwards from where his hand touches his chest, and then... nothing.

"Was that a healing spell?" Emil asks. Experimentally, he pokes at his ribs, and immediately regrets it as it responds with a knife-spike of pain. "Oww! I don't think it worked."

"Heal _faster_ ," Lalli says, annoyed, and moves away from Emil, retreating into his own corner.

As he moves, he does so gingerly, trembling as though his thin frame is made of brittle twigs. Emil notices that his left shoulder and one of his legs are wrapped in tattered strips of cloth. The makeshift bandages are darkened with splotches of blood. Emil frowns in concern.

"Hey, you're injured, too," he says.

Lalli makes eye contact with him. His silver eyes flick towards his hurt leg, back to Emil, then back to the leg. He wears an expression of pain on his face and seems unwilling to touch the leg at all. It almost seems to Emil like he's asking for help.

Now Emil crosses into Lalli's personal space; the scout shies away from his presence, but only a little. Emil studies him more closely. The bandaged leg, based on the size and number of bloodstains, looks particularly bad.

"That looks rough," Emil says. He looks up into Lalli's eyes. "I want to help you. Is that all right?"

A moment passes, then he answers with a curt nod, which Emil takes as a sign to proceed. He gently rests a hand on the injured leg, prompting Lalli to hiss like a cat and recoil from his touch. Emil sighs. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," he tells him. "I'm just going to have a look, okay? No need to bite my head off about it."

Lalli stops resisting, but narrows his eyes at Emil as he carefully picks at the knot holding the bandage together. It's difficult with only one working arm, but he finally gets it undone and peels the bloodied bandage away from the wound. As he does so, Lalli hisses in pain.

Emil looks at the wound and feels rather nauseous. There's a _lot_ of blood, although most of it has dried. It's a shallow but long scrape, that runs from the top of his thigh to down the back of his ankle. Emil's no medic, so he doesn't know for sure, but some parts of it look as though they might require stitches. More concerning is that he can see flecks of dirt in the wound. Without cleaning and more careful re-bandaging, it is sure to get infected.

"What happened?" Emil asks.

"...Troll," Lalli answers through grit teeth.

Emil nods. That made it all the more important to prevent infection; trolls were known to carry nasty diseases. "Do you have any more water? I'm going to clean this off."

Lalli nods and reaches into his pack. He withdraws another filled waterskin, which he wordlessly hands over. Emil uncorks it and pours a little over the wound, washing away the dried blood and using the scrap of bandage to pat it dry. At his touch, Lalli bares his teeth but seems to withstand the pain. Emil works his way down the leg until the dirt is flushed away and most of the dried blood is cleaned off. He'll need fresh bandages to cover it up in order that it won't get infected again, though.

Unfortunately, the bandages Lalli had hastily applied to himself earlier are too tattered and dirty; Emil will have to boil some water and wash them before they can be reused. He searches the tiny hollow for some fabric that can be used in their stead. When no options present themselves readily, he looks down at the clothing on his own body. His soldier's armor is missing one of its shoulder pauldrons. The tunic underneath, emblazoned with the insignia of the King's army, has a massive tear right through the chest. Underneath, he's wearing a simple cotton shirt.

There's only one obvious option, then. He moves to remove the tunic, but feels a stabbing pain as he attempts to move his left arm. _Right. That's no good,_ he remembers. He'll have to immobilize the arm soon, to keep from accidentally injuring himself further. With some awkward struggling, he unsheathes his sword and uses it to cut a large portion of the tunic off his body, careful to not stab himself in the process. All the while, he feels Lalli's eyes on him, watching him intently. He feels a blush rise in his cheeks as he focuses on cutting the cloth into strips, then wrapping it around the leg wound.

Lalli grumbles, but raises his leg up a few inches so that Emil can properly secure the bandage around the cleaned cut. It takes twice as long to do one-handed as it would otherwise, but finally Emil gets it all around. He releases the leg with a relieved sigh.

Next, Emil focuses on Lalli's wounded arm. He unties the blood-soaked bandage, this time eliciting a yowl of displeasure from Lalli.

"Sorry!" Emil says. He examines the wound. The injury on Lalli's arm is smaller but much deeper than the one on his leg. Dark blood seeps out of it as soon as the bandage is removed. "This looks really bad," Emil says. It looks like a puncture mark from a long, pointed troll tooth. Or an arrow.

This wound is going to require some extra attention. He thinks back to the bitter moss Lalli had given him earlier. "Do you have any more medicine? Any kind of healing ointment that I can put on this?"

After consideration, Lalli nods. He uses his other arm to reach into one of the pockets on his uniform and pulls out a leafy fern. This he puts in his mouth and chews contemplatively. After a few seconds, he spits the mashed-up leaf pulp in his hand and places it over the shoulder wound. _Gross._ _But effective._ He nods at Emil, who takes this as a sign to place a bandage over the wound and apply pressure. After about a minute, the bleeding stops. Emil secures the bandage with a military knot and then slumps against the wooden walls of the hollow beside Lalli.

 _Who knew first aid could be so exhausting?_ Emil thinks to himself. The pain in his injured arm is flaring up again, making it difficult to think about anything else.

He casts an aside glance towards Lalli. The scout has closed his eyes and his breathing has slowed to a normal rate. Since he's not looking his way, Emil takes the moment to shamelessly observe him. There's something about Lalli's delicate, angular features that endlessly draws his attention. Emil wishes he had a sketchbook, so he could record it.

It's as he silently observes Lalli that the persistent thought he's been trying to repress returns to the front of his mind. Try as he might, he can't forget Tuuri's words where she described Lalli as _dragon-blood_. The blue light that flares in Lalli's eyes whenever he uses magic; the ethereal form with a long tail, pointed ears and wings that appeared around him for a split-second. Emil's most recent vivid dream.

He must have hit his head in the fall and is now going crazy. There's no way that Lalli could be a dragon. Dragons are monsters. Lalli is... Lalli. Sure, he may be a strange guy, but he's Emil's friend, sort of. He _fights_ monsters; he certainly isn't one himself.

Emil closes his eyes and tries to think about nothing at all.

Time flows by slowly, like treacle syrup. The pain is distracting, making it difficult to relax despite the exhaustion in Emil's bones. He has to rest, though, if he wants to heal. They can't stay in this tree forever. They need real medical attention, and soon. That meant they needed to return to Keuruu.

Thinking about returning to the camp snaps Emil fully awake again. When last he saw Keuruu, the camp was on chaos, on the verge of being overrun by a ravenous horde of monsters.

He nudges Lalli with his foot. "Hey," he says.

Lalli shifts in response and opens one eye. "Mh?"

"We should go," Emil tells him.

Both of Lalli's eyes are open now. He looks at Emil, frowning. "Go?"

"Back to Keuruu," Emil clarifies. There is a sick feeling of worry brewing at the pit of his stomach. "They need our help."

"No!" Lalli responds immediately, his voice nearly a shout. Emil is taken back by his sudden emotional outburst. He shakes his head rapidly. "It's not safe."

"Why? Because of the trolls? We've _fought_ trolls before," Emil says.

Lalli continues shaking his head. "Not safe," he repeats. He gestures towards his hurt leg and Emil's arm. He has a point; if they were to be jumped by a troll in their current state, they would most likely be defenseless.

But Emil isn't giving up. "Why would this place be any safer than back at the camp? We'll be just as vulnerable in here as we are out there in the forest."

Lalli shakes his head. He gestures to the hollow around them. "Safe here," he says. "Hidden."

Emil rolls his eyes. Okay, fine, so Lalli trusts this place; Emil is willing to give him the benefit of doubt. "Well, just because _we're_ safe doesn't mean everybody else is. That's why we need to go back and help."

Lalli crosses his arms. "No."

"What about Tuuri?"

At the mention of his cousin's name, something in Lalli's expression shifts. He looks down to the floor and doesn't reply.

"She's been worrying like crazy about you. Now, she's probably worrying about me, too," Emil says.

Lalli draws in a shaky breath. "Tuuri..."

"She could be in danger. Don't you want to make sure she's okay?" Emil says, imploring softly.

Lalli appears deep in thought. After a few moments, he places his hands together, murmuring an incantation under his breath. It's the same spell he'd used on the troll hunt to locate their target. He stops chanting, and his eyes glow blue for a moment as he turns his head and stares in the direction where Keuruu must be.

The blue glow fades and his eyes widen in fear. He flinches, arms up. "No! No..." he places his hands on the sides of his head, over his ears, and screws his eyes shut. "Tuuri..."

Emil sits up at attention, but regrets it immediately as pain flashes from his busted rib. "What is it? What did you see?"

Lalli gives a shiver. "Something... big... evil," he manages. His fingers dig into his hair and he points towards the flap sheltering them from the storm outside. "Out there."

Emil's stomach turns. He remembers their shared dream. He remembers the giant that appeared there, looming over the treetops. Its massive hands had broken through Lalli's magical barrier with barely any effort at all. If the dream was real, then did that mean the giant was also...?

"O-okay," Emil says, for the first time truly understanding Lalli's caution. He doesn't have Lalli's magic sight, but as he looks towards the direction Lalli pointed, he almost feels as though he can sense it: a dark malevolence, sentient and brooding, lurks in the distance. Its enormous power makes Emil feel small, as he shrinks back into the wooden wall. "R-right. Stay here, where it's safe. I think I get it now."

Lalli relaxes. Something like relief flashes across his face. "Mhm," he says, nodding curtly. _Of course I'm right._

"So, I guess we'll just... wait here," Emil says. "Until it is safe to leave."

Lalli looks over at Emil. He reaches across and grabs ahold of Emil's shoulder, fingers grasping onto the cloth of his shirt sleeve. He pulls their faces closer together, and looks right into Emil's eyes. "We must survive. For Tuuri. For m--" He cuts himself off abruptly. His eyes fall away and to the ground, but his hand remains tangled in Emil's shirt. Finally he looks back up again. "Survive," he repeats.

Emil stares back. _Was he about to say, 'for me'?_ He wonders, a strange feeling fluttering in his chest at the idea. "I promise I will," he says. "But, um, you're kinda hurting my arm, holding like that..."

He drops him like a hot coal, and Emil's shoulder knocks against the back wall, which hurts also.

Lalli gazes towards the tarp flap that covers the exit to the hollow. "Next dawn. If it is safe, we go."

"Okay," Emil agrees. That seems like a worthy compromise.

In time, the thunderstorm tapers off. Already the day outside is fading into twilight. Only a single night stands in between their temporary safety and the uncertain world that waits beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> New chapter coming next week :D


	6. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil and Lalli return to home base to confront what awaits them there.

The next day, in the grey light of early morning, Lalli nudges Emil awake. He comes to, blearily rubbing sand from his eyes, and looks around confused for a moment before he remembers where he is, in the hollow of a tree somewhere deep within the forest.

Lalli stands crouched under the low ceiling, looking down over Emil. His silver eyes glint in the low light. Unlike Emil, he seems instantly awake and alert in the morning.  By the looks of it, he's already gotten up and scouted the area. He carries a bundle wrapped in cloth under one arm.

"The evil is gone," he informs Emil. "Safe to leave now."

That wakes Emil up more. He pushes himself up to a seated position using his good arm. The pain in his chest and arm is still there, but less intense and intrusive than it had been the previous day. Either his injuries weren't as severe as he originally thought, or Lalli's healing spell from the previous day was working. Emil chooses to believe in the latter.

Lalli doesn't seem interested in waiting for Emil, and motions impatiently for him to get a move on, lifting the tent flap and gesturing pointedly. Emil notices the bandages on his leg and shoulder are showing red spots again; he will most likely need to change the wrappings before they set out for Keuruu. He pushes aside the tarp and steps out into the open air for the first time since waking up in the tree hollow.

Outside, the rain from the previous day has stopped. Just beyond the tree hollow lies a small clearing, with a few moss-covered stones and the remains of an old fire pit. The air outside is crisp and chill and smells of a nascent autumn. Birds squawk and flutter through the trees. That feeling of dark miasma that was lurking on the edge of perception is no longer present.

Lalli sets down the bundle he is carrying on one of the stones and unrolls it, revealing its contents: two freshly-caught river fish. The sight of the food makes Emil's mouth water. He remembers he had practically nothing to eat besides nuts the previous day.

Lalli catches his eye and gestures towards the firepit. Right. Fire. Emil's good at that.

A few minutes of wood-gathering later, and Emil's hesitant spark catches on the tinder, blooming into a flame. The sight of it relaxes him. He's distracted by the fire long enough that when he looks up, Lalli has disappeared into the woods once again. He left the fish though, so Emil assumes he will return soon.

By the time Lalli does come back, Emil has stoked the little flame into a respectably-sized campfire, and even built a makeshift wooden spit so that they can cook over the top. Lalli sees it and nods approvingly. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of pink berries, which he offers in an outstretched hand. Emil takes a few and pops them into his mouth. The taste is mild, with a hint of tart and sweet, crunchy with tiny seeds within. A smile spreads across Emil's face for what feels like the first time in a long while. When he looks up at Lalli, he notices a hint of a smile on his lips, too.

They skewer the fish on narrow sticks and place it to roast in the fire, blackening the scales and cooking the meat over hot coals. While the fish are cooking, Lalli takes the time to examine Emil's injured arm. The swelling has gone down a bit from before, but the elbow area is purplish and it still hurts to move. Using some thread and a couple of sticks, they build a makeshift but serviceable splint that holds the joint in place and protects it from accidentally knocking into things.

Next, Emil sets to work on cleaning and re-bandaging Lalli's wounds. It turns out that the one remaining pauldron from his soldier's armor, flipped upside-down, makes a decent pot for cooking. He uses it to heat water, and then gently removes the bloodied bandages, murmuring reassurances while Lalli grumbles in displeasure. The wounds are then cleaned with warm water, and the soiled bandages left to soak. Not for the first time, Emil wishes they had soap.

While they wait for the cleaned bandages to dry, Lalli still seems bothered by something. He gets Emil's attention in the usual way, by grabbing at his sleeve. He opens his mouth to ask for something, and then appears to reconsider, instead looking away from Emil, appearing somewhat bashful.

"What is it?" Emil asks. This is fairly unusual behavior for Lalli. "Is something wrong?"

Rather than answer directly, Lalli instead reaches for the hem of his own undershirt and, with no forewarning, lifts it over his head.

At the sight of Lalli's bare chest, Emil recoils and covers his face. "Hey hey hey! Whoa there! What -- what are you doing?!" A vivid red blush shines in between his laced fingers.

Lalli appears unamused. He twists his body around and points to his back. "...Injured here. Can't see. Look."

Emil peeks out from between his fingers, the blush still on his face. Lalli's back, pale and slender, is a tapestry of scratch marks and deeper cuts. They look painful. _Lalli's been quiet about this the entire time?_ It's as he studies the wounds that Lalli gives him an impatient look over the shoulder, and Emil realizes he should probably tell him what he's seeing.

"Um. It looks like most of these are pretty shallow scratches. The only one that looks bad is up here," Emil says, pointing to a deeper wound on his upper back that looks like another puncture mark. "Seems like it's mostly scabbed up by now. I'll clean it and cover it over. You'll have to be careful not to itch them open again, though."

Still, there's something that strikes him as strange about these cuts on his back; about all of Lalli's wounds actually. Something Emil can't quite identify. He shrugs, figuring it's just a part of Lalli's general weirdness as he cleans and dresses the cuts. Mercifully, Lalli puts his shirt back on afterwards.

The bandages are finished drying by the fire, so Emil takes them and carefully re-applies them onto the newly cleaned cuts. Some of the fabric still bears the insignia of the King's Army, and Emil remembers that cloth had once been his tunic; the very same one he'd spilled milk over on that first day. _Well, at least it doesn't smell like milk anymore,_ he thinks.

The fish are fully roasted, and so Emil pulls them from the fire and hands one to Lalli. He holds his own by the skewer, blowing on it to cool it off, then gingerly takes a bite. The blackened scales flake off under his teeth, but the meat below is soft and succulent. Emil eats cautiously, picking out tiny bones as he goes, and wishes he had a fork and knife.

Lalli, meanwhile, tears hungrily into the fish with his teeth, crunching through bones and all. He finishes eating long before Emil, and then watches him with attentive eyes. It would be weird if Emil wasn't so used to his constant scrutiny by now. If he's being honest with himself, Emil kind of enjoys the attention.

Their meals finished and injuries addressed, anything more they do now just seems like delaying the inevitable. Emil pours out the water to quench the fire, then re-attaches the sodden pauldron to the rest of his remaining armor. Lalli deconstructs the tarp over their hideout in the hollow, then sets to work scuffing up the area and removing all traces of their camp.

Eventually, it appears as though they were never there. Lalli rolls one of the boulders to hide the entrance to the tree hollow from view. This place must be one he returns to regularly while scouting in the woods. He finishes his work and looks up at Emil.

"Time to go?" Emil guesses. Lalli nods. "Lead the way, then."

At Emil's word, Lalli takes off, covering the forest terrain with lanky strides. He moves swiftly considering the injury on his leg, but not as fast as he is capable of going. Every twenty or so paces, he pauses, and looks back over his shoulder towards Emil. Emil finds it considerably more difficult to walk given the pain in his chest. Each step sends reverberations through his body, and the constant background of the pain saps his stamina faster than usual. He's grateful they at least had food to eat, providing him with the much-needed energy to make the journey across such uneven terrain.

They come to a trickling brook that cuts through the undergrowth. It's swollen with rainwater and clogged by mud and moss. Lalli hops onto a fallen log that lies in the middle of the brook, and then easily across. Emil, watching him, is taken for a moment by the grace in his movements, how effortlessly he seems to navigate this natural environment, a place that to him feels completely foreign. He approaches the brook and, knowing he won't be able to make the same jump across, takes a tentative step onto a mossy rock. The stone wobbles beneath his feet and Emil, not used to keeping balance with just one arm, falls on his behind into the water with a splash.

"Owww," he cries out as the cold water soaks into his clothing. He gets himself back up to his feet, only to stumble again on the slippery rocks on the riverbed. This time, though, there is a hand that reaches out to steady him. He looks up, confused, and sees Lalli there by his side, one hand laced inside the crook of Emil's elbow. He's standing in the ankle-deep water that rushes through the stream, looking over Emil with a mildly concerned expression.

 _He came back for me,_ Emil thinks, marvelling at the strangeness of it. "...Sorry. Thanks," he says, and the two of them wade through the water safely to the other shore.

From that point on, they go at a slower pace, to Emil's relief. His boots are sodden from their dip in the brook, and there is a chill breeze in the air that provokes a shiver. Now that the sun has fully risen and the birds have retreated to their nests, the woods are quiet. The only sounds are their careful steps through the undergrowth and the rustle of bushes as they brush past.

Lalli had said the coast was clear, and Emil trusts him to warn them if a troll or monster should appear nearby, but that doesn't completely eliminate the nervousness Emil feels. The anxiety only grows stronger as they draw closer and closer to Keuruu. _What were they going to find? Who was waiting for them there? What remains after that night?_

After quite some time spent walking, they crest a small hill and Emil spots something familiar: the worn footpath that he and the other soldiers would cross on their routine patrols. They must be close now. Lalli slides down the steep embankment and lands nimbly on the trail. Emil stumbles after him, and has to take a minute to recover and catch his breath.

Lalli looks down the path in the direction of Keuruu, his nose wrinkled, wearing a troubled expression. The look on his face alarms Emil.

"What's wrong? Is there a monster?"

Lalli closes his eyes. After a moment, he shakes his head no. "Bad smell," he says. "Burning."

Emil sniffs the air, but his senses must not be as keen, because he can't smell anything besides earth and forest. Still, there's something in Lalli's words that turns his stomach. He finds himself hoping crazily that they will never reach the camp. He doesn't know how he will handle it otherwise.

It's as Emil is on the verge of praying to whatever god will listen that they round a corner and finally come into view of Keuruu.

As soon as they lay eyes on it Emil knows for sure something is wrong. The tall fence that surrounds the base is in shambles, the wooden planks splintered as though wrecked by some massive force. The gate, once so proud and impenetrable, has been torn off its hinges and lies flat on the muddy earth. The camp is usually filled with noise and activity, but an eerie silence greets them as they approach. There are some signs of life, in the form of a plume of smoke that rises from the center of Keuruu, but this close Emil understands what Lalli had said about the smell: it's not the familiar scent of wood smoke. It smells rancid and cloying, like burning hair and flesh.

Emil feels a wave of nausea that doesn't have only to do with the smell, and as they cross the fallen gate door and into the camp, he sees the source of the smoke: a heaping mound of beast and troll corpses, piled high and set ablaze in the center of camp. The smell causes him to retch, and he tries not to lose his breakfast. He casts a look over towards Lalli, who is looking similarly pale and green.

He looks past the flames and witnesses more devastation. The Gathering Hall that he'd labored all summer to build has been crushed as though beneath a giant foot, reducing it to rubble. Most of the other structures have been destroyed to varying degrees, from burned-off roofs to complete structural collapse. Only the barracks, stone-walled and stalwart, still remain standing. Black soot, washed off by the rain, forms pools and streaks across the dirt floor.

Other than the burning pyre of troll corpses, the camp seems empty. Nobody is there to greet them as they walk in. Emil looks around for any activity, and his eyes catch motion on the other side of the fire. A lone human figure leaves the barracks pushing a wheeled cart loaded with burlap bags, unloads its contents, and re-enters the building.

Emil takes off in a sprint without his mind even registering the decision. He charges towards the barracks, with Lalli following close behind him. The door is closed, so he flings it open, and seconds later collides with a massive, barrel-chested man that was stood on the other side of the door.

Emil looks up, and recognizes Mikkel, the medic and worst cook. He looks exhausted, with flat eyes with bags underneath them. As soon as he recognizes Emil and Lalli, his eyes widen.

"What happ--" Emil starts to say, before he and Lalli are pulled in by Mikkel's arms into a bear hug.

"I'm glad you two are safe," rumbles Mikkel as he pats Emil on the top of his head. He releases them, and Lalli takes a step back.

Emil rubs at his hurt arm. "What happened here? Where is everyone?"

Instead of responding right away, Mikkel sighs and turns his body sideways so they can see inside the barracks. Emil's eyes widen. The room is filled with injured soldiers, most of whom are unconscious, some of whom are missing limbs. Those who are standing are tending to the wounded, changing soiled bandages or administering medicine or simply sitting by the side of their beds. Cries and moans of pain are a constant murmur in the background.

Emil forgets about the pain in his arm as he looks on in horror. He _knows_ these soldiers. There was the one who always took point on patrol; there was the archer who'd provided backup during the troll hunt. But also, what Emil notices is that there are far _fewer_ soldiers than should be there.

_Is this everyone that survived?_

Mikkel's hand falls on Emil's shoulder. "I'll take you to Sigrun," he says. "She'll want to see you. She's going to do a better job of explaining than me."

"Sigrun!" Emil's heart leaps to his throat. He doesn't know what to expect as Mikkel leads him past the beds of wounded soldiers into another room.

In the room, which happened to be their old bedroom, Sigrun is laid on a cot and propped up with pillows, her eyes closed and a furrow in her brow. Bandages criss-cross her chest and shoulder. Dark bloodstains leak in a wide semicircle around her shoulder in the shape of what looks like a massive bite mark. Like Mikkel, she has bags under her eyes and appears exhausted.

Also on Sigrun's bed, curled up by her feet is the small orange and white cat, whose ears perk up when Emil walks in, and she stares at him with curious blue eyes. She looks unharmed, and begins purring loudly as he approaches the bedside.

Emil clears his throat. Sigrun opens her eyes and looks over him blearily, not seeing at first. As soon as she registers his identity, she gasps.

"Västerström!" she exclaims. A look of relief flashes across her tired eyes. "You're alive! I was so sure that you were dead."

Emil runs a hand through his hair, feeling nervous again. "I'm not. Lalli saved me."

"Lalli? You mean that pipsqueak? He's alive, too?"

As though in response to his name, Lalli enters the bedroom. He regards Emil and Sigrun warily, before he closes the door behind him and sits down on an empty cot on the far side of the room.

"Yeah. He found me in the woods after I--" Emil's memory comes up short as he tries to recall the events of that night. The last thing he remembers is falling out of the sky on the dragon's back, having a strangely vivid dream, and then waking up in the tree hollow. "...I don't remember exactly," he admits. "But I know I'm alive thanks to him."

Sigrun flashes a tired smile. "That's good," she says in a wheezy voice. "Glad to see him still in one piece. I knew that little guy was too tough to become troll food." She points a finger in Lalli's direction, then moves it to point at Emil. "You... be sure hang onto that one from now on, all right soldier?"

She must be a bit delirious under the pain-relief medicine. Emil looks down at her with concern. "Sir... what happened to you?"

"Troll got me. Bastard must've snuck up from behind while I was fighting off beasts," she says, grimacing and touching her hand to the bandaged bite mark on her shoulder. "Sunk its teeth into my shoulder. Of course, I cut its head off immediately, but it stayed stuck in there until Mikkel managed to pry it off." Emil is struck with a vivid mental image of Sigrun covered in blood, stumbling away from the battlefield with a severed troll head still bitten down on her shoulder.

"Ah, but I was one of the lucky ones. Not like those sorry soldiers," she says, jerking a thumb out towards the window.

Emil peers outside. Dozens of canvas sacks lie piled beside a hand cart. Each sack is approximately the length and size of a person. His stomach turns to ice.

As he looks out over the wreckage and devastation of what was once their home, and now looks even worse than the day he arrived off that boat, another question rises to the forefront of his mind.

"What happened to the camp?" he asks. "Was there another fire?"

"A fire? Ha!" Sigrun gives a bark of laughter. "You sound like those forest-people now. That wasn't any ordinary fire, no. First it was a giant that breached our walls. Took out some of our best archers and warriors before we finally drove it away. And then, it was that goddamned dragon."

On the other side of the room, Lalli's eyes widen and he straightens up. Emil does too.

"But.. that's..." Emil protests. _He'd killed the dragon! Hadn't he?_

"It returned after you left," Sigrun says. "That was why I thought you were dead. Figured it had snapped you up and was coming back for seconds."

"It came back," Emil repeats, dumbfounded.

Sigrun nods solemnly. "It arrived soon after the giant. Started spewing fire and burning soldiers and trolls alike. Trying to fight both it and the giant left us helpless against either." She drags a hand down the side of her face. "So powerful. As destructive as an army. I've never seen anything like it..."

Emil collapses onto a nearby cot. A hollow feeling echoes within his chest. He'd failed. He didn't manage to slay the dragon; he'd only made it mad. It had destroyed Keuruu and now his fellow soldiers were dead because of it. "I -- I don't..."

"And to make matters worse, it snatched up one of our own and carried her off. That little Skald girl... what was her name?"

Lalli gasps. "Tuuri!"

"Oh yeah, Tuuri. That was it," Sigrun says.

Emil stares at her, his heart thudding against his ribcage. "The dragon took Tuuri?"

Sigrun shakes her head sadly. "Grabbed her in its talons just before it flew off, headed northeast, towards the mountains." She looks up towards Lalli. "She's your cousin, right? I'm sorry. I know this isn't easy to hear. It's terrible what happened to her, really. I always thought she was one of the good ones."

Emil looks across the room at Lalli. He sits hunched over, his hands clenched into trembling fists. Suddenly he stands up, shoving the cot backwards, and storms out of the room. Emil watches him go. As much pain hearing what happened to Tuuri is causing him, he can't even imagine the emotional agony Lalli must be going through.

After Lalli leaves, and the door swings shut behind him, Sigrun looks up at Emil. "Västerström. Don't blame yourself."

"How can I not?!" Emil punches the pillow on his bed. "I had one job to do... kill the dragon. And I failed. I'm a failure."

"If it's any consolation, I didn't think you'd even survive this long," Sigrun says matter-of-factly. "I'm glad to see my training has paid off, even if you didn't actually slay the damn thing. That was brave, what you did that night. Foolish, but brave. Reminds me of my early days." She sighs, and looks weary.

Emil looks at her, feeling as tired as she looks. On a normal day, learning that his superior officer assumed he'd just be a failure would have been a massive blow to his ego. But the emptiness inside him is all that remains; all he can think about is Tuuri's cheerful smile, and how he'll most likely never see her again.

They don't talk for almost a minute. Emil sits hunched over, his hands clasped, trying to remain grounded in the midst of despair. He wonders what's going through Lalli's head at the same time.

Finally, with a croaking voice he asks, "What happens now?"

"We sent a messenger-ship to the mainland. They'll be sending a vessel to take the dead back home to their families, and withdrawing any Scanian soldiers who remain. It should arrive within the week." Her violet eyes meet Emil's. "You'd be welcome to get on that boat, too. Take it, and go home."

 _Home_. Emil contemplates Sigrun's offer. He could leave this whole mess behind him, all his shame and his trauma, and return to the Scanian mainland. To live out the rest of his life somehow, not perfect, not redeemed, but alive. Forget about all these dreams; forget the day he ever heard the word _dragon_.

"Although, if it were me," Sigrun says, interrupting Emil's thoughts, "If the dragon was still out there, and it took _my_ friend, I know I wouldn't sleep right until I knew for sure the beast was dead. Preferably by my own blade."

He tangles his fingers in the bed sheet beneath him. Sigrun is right. That dragon is still out there. Only now, it's personal. If Emil slays it, he can get it all back: all the glory and luxury that was once lost to him. He can reclaim his noble title, and his honor. He feels the spark of determination rekindle in his chest. _Home?_ How could he even consider going home? He has no home to speak of that he can return to. He will have to carve a new home out for himself, in blood if he must.

Sigrun must have noticed Emil's expression, because a grin forms on her face. "That's my warrior," she says, fondly. "I knew you had that fire inside you."

Emil gets to his feet, straightening his spine. "I have to go," he says. He gives a military salute. "Good to see you alive, Captain."

"Likewise," Sigrun says. "Go forth, soldier, and bring honor to your name."

Emil leaves, letting the door swing shut behind him.

-*-*-*-

Lalli is exactly where Emil thought he would be, standing on the secret rocky shore looking out over the lake. His silver-blonde hair rustles in the light breeze.

Emil approaches and sits down on a rock beside him. Lalli's eyes are closed and his palms held outwards, as though praying to his gods. Rings of ripples extend outwards across the lake from where the tips of his boots dip into the water. Emil watches him with interest as he inhales deeply through his nose, then exhales slowly out through his mouth. His eyes open, ringed with blue light around the iris.

He looks towards Emil. "Tuuri is alive," he says.

Emil stares at him. Was he in denial? Or was that something he could do with his magical powers, sense his cousin's life force? Or did he have some other reason to believe she was still alive? Regardless, just hearing those words stokes the hopeful firelight within him. He wants to believe they are true.

"I'm leaving," Lalli says. He glances inland, northeast, in the direction of the mountain that looms on the distant horizon. Of course he was leaving; he couldn't stay with Tuuri out there somewhere in danger.

"I'm going too," Emil tells him.

Lalli narrows his eyes. "No."

Emil is so far past taking 'no' for an answer that he doesn't even acknowledge it. "I need to do this, Lalli. It's the only way."

Lalli places his palms together and gives a frustrated sigh. "Phh. Dangerous. You'll die."

"Do you think I care about that?!" Emil shakes his head. "Besides, it's not like it's any safer here. Look at this place! The only reason we survived that night is because we were nowhere near camp."

"...You're slow," Lalli points out.

He has a point: compared with Lalli, Emil is nowhere near as well-adapted to traversing the forest. And with his injuries, he'll move even slower. What would be a two-day, two-night journey for just Lalli will likely be a three- or four-day-long trek for the both of them.

"Maybe I am," says Emil. "But I'm going anyway. I have to." He tries to think of something to say that will sway the stubborn scout. Then he remembers. "While you were missing, Tuuri asked me what the point of being a soldier was, if you couldn't protect the ones you care about. I didn't manage to protect us before. I need to make up for that now."

Lalli mutters something in forest-language under his breath and turns away from Emil. He's stubborn, but Emil feels like his words are getting through to him, little by little.

"Look," Emil says, "Tuuri told me about your history. How you lost your home village when you were kids, and now you're the only one the other has got left. I can't pretend to come anywhere close to that. But... you..." he struggles to find the right words. "You two are the only people that were kind to me here. Before I came here, I had nothing. Less than that, actually," he admits, thinking of the regrets he left behind. "It sounds kinda sad to say it, but... I think you two are the best friends I've ever had."

That catches his attention. He gives Emil a quizzical look. "...Friends...?"

Emil nods. "Yeah," he says. "Plus, I owe you my life, like, at least five times over by now. I'll do whatever it takes to make that up to you. So, please..." he holds out his hand. "Let's do this together. All right?"

Lalli looks at his outstretched hand. Then he looks up at Emil's eyes. With a dismissive flip of his hair, he turns away. "Mrrgh. You know nothing."

Emil feels the cold rejection wash over him. "Please! Let me help save her!  I know I can make a difference!"

Lalli keeps his face turned away from Emil, his expression unreadable. He gives a long sigh, and his shoulders slump in apparent defeat. Just as Emil thinks he's about to just stalk away into the woods, he turns around to face Emil again.

"First light. We leave," he says in clipped, curt words. "Keep up."

Relief and reckless hope kindles in Emil at his words. He can't help a grin forming on his face. "Yesss!" he says enthusiastically. "You won't regret this, I promise. I'll carry my weight. I won't slow us down too much. We'll find her and bring her home safe."

"Home," echoes Lalli, an unreadable look in his eye. He faces towards the camp and begins walking back to camp. He limps slightly, favoring his non-injured leg.

Emil watches him leave for a moment and considers his injuries. That thought which occurred to him this morning concerning the strangeness of Lalli's injury resurfaces. He remembers the long, scraping cut along Lalli's leg, the puncture wounds on his upper arm and back, the scratches across his skin. But his clothing shows none of those cuts and tears that caused those wounds. Only faded bloodstains mar the pale fabric of his scout's uniform.

He stares after his retreating form in confusion. _If he wasn't wearing his uniform when he got those injuries, then... what was he doing?_ Emil wonders. He compartmentalizes that thought into the 'strange stuff about Lalli' bucket, and then hurries after him.

They were really doing this; come tomorrow's dawn, they were journeying to the mountains. Lalli was going to rescue his cousin. And Emil would finally slay the dragon, once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a downer chapter this time, sorry :') Hope you enjoyed regardless!  
> Going to take a week off updating this story, so the next update will be at the end of the month.  
> Thanks as always for reading!


	7. Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Tuuri missing, Emil and Lalli set out together on a journey to find her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back!  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, it was probably my favorite to write so far, which might be why it ended up being so long. I think it's the longest one yet.  
> Tags have been updated as well. (Now introducing: everybody's best friend, Angst!)  
> Also, from here on out this fic will be on an every-other-week update schedule.  
> That's all for now. Enjoy the story!

-*-*-*-

"For the record, I don't think this is a very good idea," says Mikkel to Emil.

They're in the makeshift medical ward inside of the barracks, where Mikkel is examining his injuries. The orange-and-white kitty lies curled on the cot beside Emil. Two beds over, Sigrun lies buried in her linen sheets, deeply asleep and snoring a little.

"Sigrun gave me permission," Emil points out.

"I know that. And I know I can't convince you not to go. But it is risky, especially with your injury." He unties the makeshift splint on Emil's arm and examines it. Emil winces in pain and inhales sharply through his teeth. He looks at the arm and frowns. "Are you sure this happened on the night of the attack?"

"Positive," Emil says, somewhat perplexed by the question.

"Hmm. It's healing exceptionally fast in that case," says Mikkel. "You should be a lot worse off than you are."

Emil remembers how Lalli cast a spell that he said would make him heal faster. Seems like it's working. "How much longer until it's fully healed?"

"At this rate? Probably just another week or so," Mikkel says. "But you have to keep it still and not move it very much so that the muscles have time to knit back together. Same goes for your rib. Not much I can do for that one, you just have to be sure not to get any more hurt."

Emil rolls his eyes. "Thanks. _Real_ helpful."

Mikkel ignores his sarcasm and re-splints his forearm, then fashions a sling out of cloth that secures the hurt arm to his chest, so that he won't keep knocking it into things. As Emil motions to leave, Mikkel places a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Wait," he says. "Emil. I know that Sigrun can be a bit... hm... harsh at times. But it's important you don't have the attitude that everyone else's lives are more important than yours. If you keep ignoring your own needs, you're setting yourself on a road to self-destruction, here, and here," he says, pointing to Emil's head, and his heart.

Emil frowns and bats his hand aside. "I know that," he protests. "This _is_ what I want. Seriously. Why does everybody assume I don't know what's best for myself? I'm perfectly capable of making up my own mind about this sort of thing."

Mikkel doesn't respond, but the weary expression on his face tells everything he's thinking. He's witnessed too much death and destruction in the last few days to feel comfortable with Emil's choice to charge directly into danger, under-supplied and with an extremely slim chance of survival. And yet it is that same exact disaster that compels Emil to slay the dragon in the first place. It's the desire to carve out a safer world, through whatever means necessary.

Emil doesn't want to leave Mikkel on that note though. Even though he was an okay medic at best, and a frankly terrible cook, he was like a solid bedrock of stability for Keuruu. Emil would miss him on the journey, although he wouldn't miss his cooking skills. "Um... thanks, though," he says, touching a hand to his arm in the sling. "I'll try to keep from making these injuries any worse." He thinks about what else he should say. "And... I'll do my best to come back." There. That seemed like a good enough promise.

"Mmhm. See that you do," rumbles Mikkel, getting up from his chair and giving Emil a stoic glance before departing from the room, leaving Emil alone with a sleeping Sigrun.

Emil casts a glance over towards Sigrun's bed. What is he, really, to her? Is he truly just another disposable soldier? Or did she mean it when she said he had a special spark within him? He doesn't want to rouse her to trouble her with these sorts of questions now; she needs to rest, as does he, before leaving on his quest. When he returns victorious, he will have finally earned back his honor and respect, and he can ask her then.

He lies back on the bed and closes his eyes. The soft purr from the cat at the foot of his bed lulls him to sleep.

After what feels like just a moment later, someone prods him awake.

"Mmnuh?" Emil groans and cracks open one eye. Lalli is crouched by his bedside, his pale face and hair illuminated in a sliver of moonlight that lances through the narrow window. The play of light across his sharp features makes him appear strange, ethereal and not quite human.

The illusion is shattered when he pokes Emil squarely in the forehead again. "Get up," he hisses.

Not wanting to face reality quite yet, Emil rolls over in his bed, dragging the blanket across his face. "Mh. Five more minutes," he murmurs, half-asleep.

Lalli is having none of that. He seizes the blanket that is covering him and pulls it away, which sends the cat leaping away with a mewl of displeasure, and Emil tumbling out of the bed and onto the floor.

He grumbles and sits up. He's awake now, but at what cost?

"Oww. You didn't have to do that. I was about to get up," he protests.

"No you weren't." Lalli is unamused. "Get ready."

Emil stands up. He's still wearing just a cotton undershirt; he will have to put on his combat gear in the near-pitch darkness. He feels Lalli's silver eyes on him as he gets out his uniform breeches. "Hey, do you mind, uh..." he starts to ask for some privacy but then trails off. He doesn't expect Lalli to leave him to his own devices; furthermore, it's not like he hasn't changed in front of his fellow soldiers before. Why would Lalli be any different? And at any rate, it was too dark to see much. Probably.

That doesn't explain the hot blush that spreads to his ears as he shucks his sleep clothes and wriggles into his expedition gear: tunic, breeches, boots, greaves, armor, hooded cape, and sword. He opts for the light, hardened leather armor with metal studs instead of the heavier steel plate. They were going to be walking all the way to the mountains; there was no way he'd keep up while wearing full on battle gear.

He secures his arm in its sling, then fluffs up his hair before pulling the hood of the cloak over it. He doesn't like how it messes up his hairstyle, but then again, survival is more important. Unfortunately.

Lalli, growing more impatient by the minute, stands by the open door and signals to Emil to get a move on. He goes to leave, but not before casting a glance back towards Sigrun, lying in her own cot in the corner, asleep and oblivious to the world. Emil gives a quick salute before being pulled away by Lalli, into the hallway and outside into the chill air.

Overhead, the moon gleams bright, half-full and waxing, surrounded by stars that twinkle in the clarity of the cloudless night. To the east, the stars dim in the encroaching grey of dawn, as a pink line of sunrise peeks out from behind the mountain range. When Lalli had said they would leave at first light, he wasn't kidding.

They retrieve their leather travelling packs that lie beside the barracks, stuffed with provisions and camping gear that would keep them supplied for at least a few days. After the disaster, there was way too much food to feed the mouths that remained; and thus they were allowed to take more than their allotted rations of jerky, apples, and hardtack. And should they run out of food on the trail, well, Emil already knows that Lalli is a capable hunter and forager. Food would not be their biggest concern on this journey.

Emil shoulders the pack on his back and looks towards the wreckage of the eastern gate. Already, Lalli is more than a dozen paces ahead of him. He casts an impatient glance towards Emil, who hurries his steps to join him at his side.

Together, they cross the threshold and venture out into the dense forest, leaving the ruins of Keuruu behind.

-*-*-*-

The first day of their journey passes without major event, as they cross the now-familiar forest terrain. They follow the patrol roads for awhile, before veering off-trail and heading northeast towards the foothills. Lalli keeps a brisk pace, but always remains within Emil's line of sight, something he's grateful for. The weather is clear, with little wind, and as the sun climbs ever-higher in the sky, its warmth becomes oppressive. Emil soon finds himself absolutely soaked through with sweat, and removes his hooded cloak to wipe droplets off his forehead. The heat and humidity feels like it doubles the burden on Emil's shoulders. Still, he reflects, it's not as bad as when he had to carry Lalli all the way back to camp.

The sun is at its apex when they pass through a break in the trees and arrive at the rocky shores of a river. The brisk rush of water soothes the heat of the day, and Emil dips a hand in the cool river to splash across his face and run a hand through his hair. Re-invigorated, he hurries his footsteps to rejoin Lalli where he walks a dozen paces ahead. The river winds northward through the valley, and they follow it upstream. Despite their many hours of walking, the distant peak of the tallest mountain seems as far away as ever.

The whole time, Lalli doesn't speak much, but presses forward with a single-minded determination. This is more or less exactly what Emil expected, and it's not hard to understand why: the more time they spend taking pit stops, the longer Tuuri has to remain in danger. He knows that by joining on this quest, Emil is slowing down their pace, and mindful of that, he pushes himself further than previously thought possible. He stifles the urge to complain even as his feet grow sore in their boots and the heavy pack digs into his shoulders.

Eventually, though, as the sun dips below the treetops and the shadows grow long, Emil admits he can't walk much further and suggests they make camp for the night. To his surprise, Lalli agrees, dropping his travel pack where he stands. Emil examines him more closely, noting that he also appears tired, with stress lines under his eyes and an even more pronounced slouch than usual.

They find a suitable spot to set up camp not far off from the river. As Emil puts together their leather canvas tent and prepares their bedrolls, Lalli stalks off to inspect and secure the perimeter of their site. After gathering wood for the fire, Emil surveys his work and concludes that would be good enough for now. With the fading light of sunset still illuminating the landscape, Emil decides that now is as good a time as ever to bathe in the river and wash off the dirt of the day's long journey.

He kicks off his boots, shucks his armor and shirt, and sprints towards the river. As he reaches the shore, however, he pulls up short and ducks behind a large rock. Because there's somebody in the river already: Lalli.

Emil peeks out from behind the rock. Lalli stands waist-deep in the water, his back to Emil. His hair is wet, and drops of water run down over the scores of scratch-marks on his pale skin. Emil hides away behind the rock again, his heart pounding and a vivid flush rising in his cheeks.

 _How does this keep happening to him?_ It's getting ridiculous. He's seen a naked man before; hell, he's seen _himself_ naked, so why should this be any different? Even if Lalli doesn't look like most other men he's seen, with all his body's sweeping curves and sharp angles, lean muscle without seeming frail, the edge of his outlines catching in the shimmering sunset...

The sound of splashing water interrupts his thoughts, and when Emil peeks his head out again, Lalli is standing in the shallows of the river on the other side of the boulder, peering around at him with a perplexed expression on his face.

 _Oh, thank god,_ Emil's last functioning brain cell thinks, _he's wearing a loincloth._

"What are you doing?" he asks, tilting his head to one side and studying Emil with a look of confusion.

"I-- I was-- um!" Emil stutters and scrambles to his feet. "I was just... getting ready! For a swim! In the river!"

Lalli gives him a look like Emil is a particularly special kind of idiot. He gestures towards the river he is standing in. "Over here," he says, like explaining a very basic concept to a simple child.

"R-right! Just-- just a second," Emil exclaims, and removes the cloth sling from his splinted arm before charging directly into the river before he can have any second thoughts on the matter.

Moments after he plunges in, his brain registers the sensation and he utters a yelp of surprise. In contrast to the warm air around him, the water feels freezing. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and wades out into the middle of the river, where the water is waist-deep. He sinks down to his shoulders. Then, because he'll never adjust to the temperature otherwise, he takes a deep breath and submerges his head underwater for a brief moment, before coming up for air with a gasp.

The cool water rushing past helps soothe the ache in his muscles, and it also cools his head a bit, allowing Emil to feel somewhat normal again. He stands back up and looks towards the shore, where Lalli is stood in the shallows, staring at Emil with that peculiar look he sometimes gets. Emil knows he should feel self-conscious, but he decides not to worry about it as he waves Lalli over.

He half-expects Lalli to ignore him, or to just disappear into the woods again, but after a brief hesitation he approaches Emil, wading deeper into the river until they stand just a few paces apart. He's breathing heavily, probably due to the chill water. They lock eyes, and neither of them says anything for a moment. Then Lalli shifts, and takes a sudden step towards Emil, which for some reason sets Emil's heart rate to a feverish pace -- they're _so close_ \--

 _SPLASH!!_ Lalli tosses up a wave of cold water which smacks Emil across his face. He stumbles backwards, stunned; then, a grin forms on his lips. Oh, so _that_ was his game, was it? Emil sweeps his arm through the water, kicking up a wide spray that towers over the scout, dousing him from head to toe. He shakes the water from the tips of his hair and looks over at Emil, a determined spark in his eyes. Then, he takes a deep breath and dives underwater.

Emil glances all around him. The shimmering light across the surface of the river makes it difficult to track where Lalli has gone. He blinks and shields his eyes from the sun's light. Suddenly, something grabs his ankle from below and Emil gets pulled beneath the water's surface with a yell.

When he resurfaces, shaking water from his hair and his eyes, he glances over in Lalli's direction and finds him laughing -- actually _laughing_ , the sound and expression of joy so unusual on his typically serious face that Emil can't help but laugh too.

There's a fluttering in his heart, a flame too mysterious and tender to name. It's something he wants to protect and keep close. It feels like an answer to the question he has yet to ask.

They return to their campsite shortly after that, shivering as the sun dips beneath the horizon and takes its warmth with it. Emil sets a fire in nearly record time, and they bask in its glow while eating that day's ration of jerky. They trade sips of apple wine out of the flask that Mikkel had snuck them from the belowground larders at Keuruu. Lalli removes his soiled and waterlogged wrappings, and sits quietly as Emil applies healing ointment to his wounds and secures fresh bandages in their place, by the light of the fire in the gathering dusk.

By the time darkness truly falls, and the strange sounds of the forest surround them, Emil feels sleep catching up with him and yawns widely. Between the distance he walked today and the apple wine in his belly, he feels almost too exhausted to move. He gestures to Lalli that he is retreating to their tent; Lalli nods in understanding but does not follow. Instead, he stays seated by the fire, gazing outwards into the shadowed gaps between the trees.

Emil collapses on top of his bedroll and is asleep from the moment he closes his eyes.

-*-*-*-

The next day plays out roughly the same as the first. They rise with the first light and strike out shortly thereafter. The sky is mostly overcast, with flat, grey clouds providing a cooler atmosphere and some much-needed reprieve from the relentless sunlight of the previous day. The tallest mountain still stands at the horizon, closer now than it was when they started but still hazy in the distance.

Lalli doesn't explain his process, but seems to know exactly where they're going. Emil finds himself wondering how he can know which of the many mountain peaks the dragon has taken Tuuri to. Is it just a characteristic of dragons that they always make their nests at the highest point? Or was he using magic to locate Tuuri? He hasn't seen Lalli perform any tracking spells in a while, but he could have other methods that Emil isn't aware of.

After following the river upstream for several more hours, its path meanders sharply to the east of their target. They leave its rocky shores and continue north. The trees grow sparser as they go, and the terrain becomes more rough underfoot, with the earthy forest-floor replaced by scraggly bushes and cascades of loose rock. As the day transitions into afternoon, the sky opens up in a light misting rain. Emil pulls the hood of his cloak over his head to keep the accumulated rain from dripping into his eyes. The water makes the exposed rock surfaces slick, and more than once Emil's boot slips on a climb, sending him crashing to the ground. The third time this happens, he scrapes his chin on the ground, and when he wipes his hand across it comes away smeared with blood.

Following his injury, Emil asks if they might stop for a break. Lalli, not wanting to slow their progress, shakes his head in refusal; but when they find a rocky overhang that's protected from the rain, he gives in. They sit beneath the ledge, eating cheese and hard bread, as the light drizzle intensifies to a downpour.

As they rest underneath their makeshift shelter, Emil looks over at Lalli, who is staring silently out into the sheeting rain. His peculiar gaze carries its usual inscrutable emotion. Emil wonders what thoughts must be coursing through his mind.

"Hey, so uh..." Emil breaks the silence. "Are you holding up okay, with all this? With your cousin being kidnapped by a dragon and everything?"

Lalli's glaze flicks towards Emil, flashing him an annoyed glare. "I'm _fine_ ," he responds curtly, before returning his gaze to the rainy valley beyond.

"Okay, that's good then," Emil says, shrugging and stretching out his legs in front of him. "It's just, you know, it would be all right if you weren't fine. When you lose someone you really care about... it can weigh on you in ways you don't even notice at first."

Lalli turns his head towards Emil, the annoyed look on his face even more apparent now. His eyes flash like steel. "How would _you_ know?"

Emil puts his uninjured hand up in a defensive expression. "Hey. Whoa. I didn't say I knew exactly how you're feeling right now," he says apologetically. "I just meant... that I know how it feels. To lose somebody that's close to you. It isn't easy."

The angry look in Lalli's eye vanishes, and his frown softens. "You... lost someone?"

Emil reaches for the toe of his boot, stretching out the sore muscle. "Yeah," he says. "My mom and my dad. And pretty much everything else, for that matter."

"How?"

The directness of Lalli's line of questioning catches Emil off-guard. It's not something he enjoys thinking about. But then, Lalli isn't exactly known for his tact; that's part of why conversations with him are so refreshing compared to everyone else. Plus, the novelty of Lalli asking a personal question is so unexpected that Emil answers honestly.

"It was a house fire," he admits. "Took them both away in just one night. Our entire estate was just... ashes."

"Hmmn." Lalli breaks eye contact and gazes out into the rain again.

Emil sighs; he should have known better than to expect an expression of sympathy. Not that he deserved it, or that he wanted Lalli's pity; it just was so different from the normal reaction people gave to his story.

"...That's why I joined the King's Army," Emil explains after a short pause. "There was no place left for me to go."

When Lalli doesn't respond a second time, Emil gets the impression that he's not paying attention anymore. He huffs and hunches over, resting his hurt chin atop his crossed arms. Sometimes he really just doesn't understand Lalli -- scratch that, _most_ of the time he doesn't.

But there are moments, occasionally, where he can almost glimpse it, like focusing a telescope on a distant island: the true elements of Lalli's personality, when they aren't wrapped up in prickly layers of antisociality and defensiveness. Like yesterday, playing in the river, or earlier than that, sitting together by the fire with Tuuri. The bright, purposeful flash in his silver eyes as he lunged at the troll to protect Emil's life. The momentary shyness across his face when he first asked for help with dressing his wounds.

Lalli looks back over at him, and Emil catches his gaze and holds it, for a moment. He tries a slight smile. Lalli just looks curious.

"What made you join the Army?" Emil asks him.

Lalli blinks. "Tuuri," he says.

Of course. The cheerful and upbeat Tuuri was like warm, bright sunshine in contrast to Lalli's cold, silvery moonlight. Without his cousin, Lalli was incomplete. They both were. Emil remembers how devastated Tuuri was without him around. And now he's accompanying Lalli, who masks his hurt, channelling it into relentless determination. And this time, there's nothing Emil can do about it, short of reuniting him with his cousin.

There was no way for Emil to fill the emptiness Tuuri left behind in Lalli's heart. How could a mere campfire possibly compare to the light of the sun?

In time, the rain subsides and they move onwards. Lalli pushes them further and longer than the previous day, through muscle cramps and past the pain and soreness in Emil's feet, which feel as though they are being pounded flat against the hard packed earth and stone.

The rain storm leaves behind a white mist, which hangs low among the scrub brushes and further out on the horizon. Still in the distance, The tallest mountain fades in and out of view like a mirage.

"We should be careful," Emil says, panting with effort as he catches up to Lalli. "This fog is getting pretty thick. We don't want to get lost." He meant to refer to the mountain, but as he speaks, he realizes it sounds like he's worried about losing Lalli.

Lalli looks him up and down. With a flash of rapid motion, he closes his grip around Emil's good wrist.

"Not lost," he insists and starts walking, pulling Emil forward with him

"A-aah, wait wait--" Emil stutters, as he struggles to keep up with Lalli's long-legged strides. Soon, he is able to match pace and meekly allows himself to be pulled along.

After about a minute, he allows his wrist to drop and joins their hands together instead. This, he finds, is a much more comfortable way to stay connected so as to not lose each other in the fog. Emil looks towards Lalli, silently asking if this is okay, and thinks he catches his eyes on a backwards glance. Then Lalli quickly looks away and focuses on their destination, without acknowledging anything about what just happened, but keeping his hand in Emil's.

Despite their mutual best efforts, eventually their pace slows to a walk, and then a crawl, as every step creates another explosion of pain in Emil's muscles. At last, when the day fades into twilight, Lalli signals that it is time to stop for the day. Emil gratefully slumps against a nearby rock, feeling the ache in his muscles pool out of him as Lalli goes off to search for a suitable place to set up camp for the night.

They find a site not too far off, in a flat gravelly area beside a steep wall of solid rock. A gnarled and dead tree shields the spot away from view, and will likely provide them with enough wood for their campfire. Lalli scours the area first, then nods his approval when he doesn't sense any monsters nearby. The two of them set their camp in short order, the process routine by now.

Dinner is apples, more jerky, and some nuts and berries Lalli scavenged from the forest. Emil builds the campfire right up next to the large rock wall, and they lean their backs against it as they eat, resting their weary muscles. Overhead, the clouds and mist part, revealing a starry sky lit by a gibbous moon.

Emil gets an idea, and reaches into his travel pack. There's something he brought with him that he wants to be certain didn't get too wet in the rain. Out of an inside pocket, he pulls his dog-eared book of Scanian poems. He flips through its pages and notes with relief that they are unblemished by water.

By his side, Lalli sits up. He peers over Emil's shoulder at the book with a curious look in his eyes.

"Oh, are you interested in this?" Emil asks. Lalli didn't strike him as a bookish type. In fact, he doesn't even know if Lalli can read. "It's my only book. I brought it from home in Östersund."

"A story?" Lalli asks. Reflections of firelight flicker in his eyes.

Emil is reminded of Tuuri telling him the myth of the silver dragon. _It's a story I used to hear every night when I was young,_ she'd said. Was the same thing true for Lalli? Does he secretly love stories, too?

"It's not a novel. It's poetry," Emil says. When Lalli gives him an uncomprehending look, he says, "You know, like... words that rhyme, or sound pretty together, or describe a scene or a feeling? Stuff like that. It's kind of hard to explain."

Lalli points a finger to the words on the page. "Read."

"You really want me to...? Well, okay," Emil says with a shrug, and starts reading aloud. The flickering campfire is a poor source of light, but he doesn't really need it. He's had these poems memorized ever since he was a boy, when he was ordered to stand up straight and speak clearly, reciting before his audience in his best pressed clothes. The rigid formality of that bygone time could not be more different from where he is now, seated by the fire, surrounded by stars overhead and wilderness all around, with the attentive gaze of Lalli over his shoulder.

The subject matter differs from poem to poem, with nature and the seasons as a major recurring theme. There are other matters, though, things like home, and death, and loss, and renewal. There's poems about love -- including a particularly raunchy one that his mother always made him skip during his recitations. Emil has a favorite poem, which naturally describes a fire, and all its features Emil has come to know intimately: Its warmth, its light, its beauty, and its unceasing hunger. Emil speaks the familiar words in a near-whisper, with the popping logs and dancing sparks as punctuation.

As he turns the pages of the book, he unexpectedly feels a soft weight leaning on his shoulder. He pauses his reading and glances towards Lalli, who has rested his head against Emil's shoulder, his eyes closed. At first, he thinks he's fallen asleep, but then Lalli grumbles, "Mmrh?" which Emil takes to mean, _why'd you stop?_

With that unspoken encouragement, he continues to read until he reaches the end of the book and closes it shut. They sit there together for a long, quiet moment as the fire burns down to coals. Finally, Lalli lifts his head from Emil's shoulder, yawns and stretches out his long limbs, before curling up on his bedroll. Emil feels momentarily cold in his absence.

He lies back on his own bed, staring up at the stars, and allows sleep to slowly overtake him.

-*-*-*-

The next thing Emil is aware of, he's being vigorously shaken awake.

"Wake up!"

Emil blearlily blinks open his eyes. It's still night out, but the bright moon has set, surrounding them in near-pitch blackness. Overhead, the stars are scattered throughout the heavens, a million tiny points of light and dust swirling together like cream added to a dark brew.

Lalli is crouched over his bedroll, silhouetted against the stars, his silver irises the only visible part of him. He's shaking Emil's shoulders furiously, and doesn't stop even when Emil opens his eyes.

"Whuzzuh?" Emil asks blearily.

" _Hssssh._ " Lalli hushes him, frantically covering Emil's mouth with his hand. His other hand trembles where it's tangled in Emil's shirt. " _Troll. Near here_ ," he says in a frantic whisper.

That wakes Emil up instantly. He falls silent, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes glance around in the dark, trying to see what Lalli is sensing. It's hard to tell anything past the blood rushing in his ears. Other than the velvet blue tapestry of stars overhead, the night is dark and quiet. No wind disturbs the air. He strains his eyes, trying to make out anything around him.

He hears something. A deep breathing sound, like air withdrawn by a massive bellows, then exhaled through wheezing, diseased lungs. The scratching and scraping of many pointed claws on stone. A snuffling noise like a massive swine, with its nose to the ground, sniffing around right outside of their campsite.

Slowly, Emil reaches for his sword belt which lies by the side of his bedroll. His hand finds it, and he grasps for its hilt. He's trying to remember everything Sigrun taught him all at once. _What is the first rule when you come across a beast, troll, or giant?_

He tries to withdraw his sword from its sheath silently. Instead, the scraping sound of metal against metal rings out across the campsite like a bell's toll.

Lalli shakes him furiously. " _What are you doing?_ "

"I-- I was--" Emil fails at an explanation, but is interrupted by a low growl that comes from the other side of their campsite.

The hulking, malformed shape of the troll stands on the other side of the dead firepit, its body blocking out the midnight blue sky. Thin starlight reflects off its milky-white eyes and glistening teeth. Their backs are up against the rock wall. There's nowhere for them to run.

Emil holds his sword out in a shaking hand, not sure where to point it because he can't see anything in the darkness. What can he do? Could he fight the monster like this, blind and with one arm up in a sling? Or was he just going to lie back and let it kill them both?

He stands up, knees trembling beneath him. He's not a coward; he's Sigrun's warrior. And now, he has something worth fighting for.

"HaaaAAaaahhh!!" he yells a battle cry and lunges at the troll's approximate direction with his sword.

Instantly, he feels himself caught with a wave of force from the side that sends him sprawling. It didn't come from the troll; when he looks back towards Lalli, he sees him surrounded by a glowing aura, holding a hand out towards him. He's just pushed Emil away with his magic.

"Idiot!!" he hisses. His blue-ringed eyes glow bright with confusion and fear. "Trying to _die_??"

The troll lets out a shriek and charges towards Lalli. Its claws make contact with a shield of energy that Lalli projects around him, which weakens as the monster presses its weight against it.

Emil sees red. "Don't you dare hurt him!" He yells and runs toward the troll, stabbing his sword into its flesh, twisting, and tearing it out again with a spray-arc of black blood.

The monster keens in pain, and Emil knows he's landed a serious blow. Remembering Sigrun's lessons, he recalls that the best way to kill a troll is to light it on fire, drive steel into its skull, or preferably do both at the same time. Emil doesn't have fire on hand, so steel will need to do in a pinch.

Problem is, it's so dark he doesn't know where to aim. The only light source is the ring of faint blue light projected around Lalli's feet and glowing within his eyes. Emil looks back at him.

"Light! I need to see!" he says, and hopes Lalli understands what he's asking for.

Lalli looks at him like Emil is a complete imbecile, but he clasps his hands together, murmurs an incantation, and then a burst of glittering light, like an exploding star, flashes in front of the troll's face. It squeals and staggers, its eyes temporarily blinded, and with the crackling light as his guide Emil positions his sword and lunges. His sharply honed steel punches cleanly through the troll's skull and slices out the other side.

"K...kk...k...k," the troll utters a final dying breath, then collapses where it stands. Lalli's magic light fades out, until just a shimmer remains, drifting down towards the ground.

Emil gasps, recapturing his breath. He wrenches his sword out of the troll's skull and shakes the blood drops off. Lalli looks up at him over the dying magelight, his glowing eyes wide as he looks at Emil with amazement.

Their victory is short-lived, however. The magic light flickers out, and they are plunged into a darkness even deeper than before. As Emil catches his breath, he becomes aware of another faint noise. At first, it sounds almost like rain. Then he realizes it isn't rain: it's the sound of countless sharp claws clicking on stone.

Lalli bristles again and crouches low to the ground. "More coming," he whispers.

"What do we do?!" Emil whispers back, frantic. Their fight and the flash of light had just revealed their location to every beast and troll in the area, and now they were all converging on their location. Hurriedly, he grabs his armor and boots that lie beside his bedroll and pulls them on. If they have to run, better to be clothed than barefoot.

"Need to get away," Lalli says. Emil sees his shadowy figure move in the dark. Suddenly, he shoves a bundle into Emil's arms: it's one of their travel backpacks. "Take this. Run!"

"But--" Emil hesitates. The click-clack noise of the approaching monsters grows louder. "Won't they catch us?"

"Not you," Lalli says. He clasps his hands together and mutters a spell. The ethereal blue aura projects outwards from his skin again. He glows faintly, then brighter and brighter. He turns towards Emil. "I distract them."

"That's-- Lalli, I don't... I'm not going to just leave you behind!"

"I'm _fine_ ," Lalli insists. "I'll find you. Follow the bright star." He gives Emil a shove. "Now _run_ , idiot! Survive!"

Two more black shapes of trolls ooze into the light. Emil casts one final glance at their drooling mouths, and then at Lalli, who glows brighter with each moment that passes, before he tears his eyes away and begins running in the direction Lalli pointed, as fast as his weary legs can carry him. Snarls and screeches echo from the campsite behind him. The further Emil gets away from Lalli, the more he feels as though part of him is being pulled apart from the rest.

He scrambles up a rocky rise and chances a look back over his shoulder towards where Lalli remains. All he can see are flashes of blue light. All around that light, dozens of malformed, many-legged trolls and beasts are converging on the centermost point.

Fear grips in his chest as he watches the monsters gravitate towards Lalli. He wants to run back and help him; there's no way he could fight all those trolls on his own, magic or no. He draws his sword from its sheath and prepares to turn around and run back in. As he does, the blue light flares brighter and brighter, until a subsonic _BOOM_ echoes across the valley, and the light disappears altogether.

The sudden absence of all light disorients Emil. He finds himself unable to tell where he is or where Lalli has gone. _What just happened? Was Lalli--_

" _Skreeeeeeee!!_ " an inhuman shriek sounds right beside Emil's ear, and he has just seconds to react as the emaciated, multi-limbed shape of a beast pounces on his back. It drags its claws across Emil's armor, ripping through the fabric of his cape. He swings his sword wildly towards it and feels the flesh cleave beneath steel as he manages to plunge the weapon into its chest cavity. The beast keens its dying breath, but as soon as it falls away more dark shapes of small monsters rush in to surround him on all sides.

"Aaaaaaaaa goaway goaway go AWAY!" Emil shouts, and flees from the attacking swarm, sprinting down the other side of the hill. The beasts continue chasing him down over the uneven rocks, teeth snapping at his back. He flails his sword behind him, trying to keep their gnashing teeth at a distance. For each one he dispatches however, more appear to take its place, and the pack chases him over rocks and through thorny bushes and across wide, wind-blasted wastelands under the vast dome of the starry sky.

Eventually, Emil reaches a point where he's not even conscious of his pursuers, only of running as far and as fast as he possibly can. The brightest star gleams overhead, and Lalli's last command echoes through his mind like a mantra.

 _Survive. Survive._ _Survive_.

He runs until his breath drags itself out from his lungs, ragged and raspy. Each time he hesitates to try and catch his breath and gather his bearings, he thinks he hears that _click-clack_ of claws again, and so he runs further and faster than before. Until the light turns grey and the sky colors with the blush of dawn.

Finally, as the morning sun slides itself out from between a mountain valley, casting hopeful, slanting light across the rocky foothills, Emil finally stops running and leans against a large rock. His breath comes in heaving gasps and both of his legs are cramping up. The world spins around his head as he tries to prop himself upright, to prevent from collapsing where he stands. His fingers fumble in his travel pack and he withdraws a half-filled flask of water, which he empties into his parched throat with a gasp.

There's no sign that the pack of beasts is still following him. It must have retreated once the daylight came. Emil heaves a sigh and slumps against the rock. He drops the travel pack from his shoulders and opens it to look at the stuff he managed to bring with him in his frenetic escape.

The contents of the pack are a disappointment. The bag he grabbed at random turns out to be Lalli's, not his own. He finds one filled waterskin to go along with the one he just emptied. An interior pocket reveals a handful of nuts, which Emil scarfs without a second thought, and the hunger in his belly quiets a little. He finds some rolled-up bandages,  a small whetstone that Lalli uses to sharpen his hunting knife, some miscellaneous leaves and herbs, and the empty flask that once contained apple-wine. Notably, he's left the bedroll behind, dashing his hopes for another comfortable night's sleep.

It's as he digs through the ephemera at the bottom of the pack that Emil realizes something else is missing: his book of Scanian poetry. It was in the other pack, left behind at their campsite in the chaos of the troll attack. He heaves a sigh and feels all the energy seep from his bones as he slumps against the rock. It's such a small thing, and it has no bearing on his ability to survive. But it's the only thing he had left of his past. Losing it feels like losing a part of his soul.

Emil's entire body shivers as the full enormity of what just happened hit him. _I left Lalli behind,_ he thinks, and despair washes over him. He remembers the trolls all converging on that point of flickering blue light. He remembers turning his back and fleeing. _How could I do that? I'm such a coward..._ _and now, he's gone._ Hot tears prick at the corner of Emil's eyes. The thought of losing Lalli was more bleak and painful than he could have ever imagined. The prospect of continuing on, of finding Tuuri without him, seems impossible now. _What was the point of any of this? I should have been the one to die, not him..._

He looks up to the sky. The morning star, the brightest in the sky, shines in the north, glittering atop the pinnacle of the tallest peak. The mountain looms, cast in black shadow before the rising light of the sun reaches its slopes. It's closer than ever before; Emil is practically at its base already. How long did he run during the night while being chased by beasts? Had he really come so far without knowing?

As he watches the sky, he notices a distant winged shape that's circling the mountain top, leathery wings spread wide, its long, sinuous tail trailing behind as it flies. His spine goes rigid and all of his senses sharpen. Although it's far away, there can be no mistaking the figure of the dragon as it glides through the air, silhouetted against the sunrise.

Emil gets to his feet again, still gazing up at the dragon in the sky. His fingers tighten around the hilt of his sword. He's lost everything; his family, his home, his fellow soldiers, his only friend. That dragon, that omen of destruction and loss, has burned it all away. All he has left now is his mission.

He loosens the sling around his hurt arm. When he flexes it and finds no pain, he removes the splint. With both arms, he grasps Lalli's bag and secures it on his back. He turns and faces the mountain. Placing one foot in front of the next, he begins the climb. One way or another, his destiny awaits at its peak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be out in 2 weeks, on the 14th. Hope you all look forward to it!  
> Thanks for reading and leaving kudos and comments, I really love hearing from you and seeing your reactions, It's super motivating :D


	8. Climax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emil faces his destiny at the mountain's peak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing's first: artwork!  
> I drew some fanart of these characters' design in this AU:  
> [Emil & Lalli](https://imgur.com/02RtACn)  
> [Dragon Lalli](https://imgur.com/emkUpwH)  
> More (spoiler) art at the end of the chapter.  
> Enjoy the story!

-*-*-*-

Tucked inside of a rocky hollow near the mountain's peak, Emil meditatively sharpens his sword, a feeling of pure determination burning inside his chest.

His climb to the top of the mountain had been treacherous. No footpath existed, forcing Emil to scramble up steep cascades of pebbles, occasionally using his arms to hoist his body up a vertical rock face. Although he has free use of both his arms again, his elbow still has a twinge, and he can mentally picture Mikkel's disapproving face over his choice to use it before it's fully healed. But it's not like Emil has very much to lose if he delays his recovery. He's not thinking about what happens after he reaches the top. That future might as well not exist, as far as he's concerned.

In contrast to the relentless pace he and Lalli had taken on their journey, his ascent has thus far been careful and methodical. He was mindful to conserve his energy, not to tire himself out too quickly before he reached his destination. As such, it's taken the better part of the day to reach the summit, and now the sun hangs low in the west, poised to sink beneath the distant horizon on the other side of the valley. Its long, golden rays glint off the steel of his sword as he drags Lalli's whetstone across it, until he can _hear_ the sharpness ring out with each pass of the stone.

Throughout the ascent, he's been on constant high alert, eyes trained on the sky, ready for the dragon to reappear and swoop down at any moment. But the creature hasn't shown itself again, not since that first glimpse in the early morning. Emil knows it's there, though. He doesn't have magical scrying powers, but there's a feeling he can't explain, a sort of pressure which intensifies the higher he climbs. It feels like there's an immense power there, coiled and lying in wait.

Perhaps dragons are nocturnal, like the lesser monsters are. In which case, it's probably sleeping.

Emil holds the sword out in the light, turning it to examine it fully. The blade is perfect, clean of blood and unbent and sharp as the day it was forged. Satisfied with his handiwork, he slides it back into its sheath. Then, he does a quick inventory of the rest of his gear. He's grateful he had the presence of mind to grab his armor as he fled the campsite in the chaos of the troll attack. Otherwise, a single swipe of the dragon's claws would likely end him in an instant.

Not that it's any less dangerous now, that is. He just has slightly more of a fighting chance.

He tucks the travel pack containing his supplies, including the whetstone, behind a rock in the back of the crevice and leaves it there. He won't need it where he's going.

It's just a short climb to reach the peak. The ache in Emil's muscles is still there but feels distant, as though locked away in a box. The same thing is true for the rest of his emotions as well. He's partitioned every ounce of hurt and loss and hunger away behind a thick pane of glass.

Finally, he hoists himself up over a large boulder and finds himself standing on a windswept, rocky plateau. He's ascended to a dizzying height, and he feels a little lightheaded as he looks down at the valley below. The trees look as small as blades of grass, and he glimpses the river they'd followed north, shimmering in the golden light of the sun like the scales on a serpent's back. A brisk wind blows across the exposed outcrop, whipping his dark golden hair across his face.

On the opposite side of the plateau towers a jagged spire of rock which points skyward. Beneath that spire is a spacious cavern, sheltered by a rocky overhang and cast in shadow. Within that darkened cave, there is a stirring motion. Something in there is alive.

He takes a step forward, then another. The golden rays of the setting sun pool at the edges of the cave. They illuminate a furred flank of the enormous creature that lays curled up there. The deep rumbling sigh of its breath echoes out from the cave entrance.

The dragon is here, and it hasn't noticed him yet.

A rush of blood and fear seizes in Emil's chest. Heart pounding, he reaches for his sword and withdraws it from its sheath, careful not to make any sound this time. He shuffles closer. This is his chance. He just needs to get within striking range, and then drive his sword into the creature's skull, the same method he used to kill the troll. In a single stroke of his blade, he'll be free; his quest complete, his honor redeemed, and his newfound family protected forever.

It's as Emil approaches the edge of the cave, his senses honed as sharp as a blade's edge, that he recognizes two things:

One, that the dragon is not, in fact, asleep. Its eyes are open, and its slit pupils are trained on him.

And two, that this is a _different_ dragon from the one that appeared in Emil's dreams.

The dragon shifts its massive form and uncurls itself. Its long neck lifts up, and its eyes open wider: they glow orange, like the heart of a fire, so different from the shade of blue starlight that has imprinted itself on Emil's memory. Its fur is silvery, but mottled with a darker gray shade, with barred streaks and patterns that call to mind feathers on a bird of prey. Its pointed ears are longer, with dark tufts at the tips, and it has a ruff of long, shaggy fur that reaches down the back of its neck. Its muscles twitch as it rouses and pushes its body up on all fours, supporting itself on paws that have long, curved talons surrounded by white fur, like an owl's.

It's also _huge_ , at least a third as much larger than the dragon from before. Just its head is nearly the size of Emil's whole torso. It emerges from the shadowed cave and unfurls its wings to their full length. It's so massive, its shadow blocks out the setting sun.

Emil takes one step backwards, then another, his courage wilting beneath the gaze of the dragon as it stares at him with those fiery eyes.

[[Human,]] It speaks inside of Emil's head, its deep, rumbling voice sounding as though it echoes from all directions. It's so loud that Emil has to resist the urge to drop his sword and cover his ears, although that wouldn't do any good. [[Why have you come here?]]

"I-- I--" Emil struggles to speak through his panic. _It talked. That's weird, right? Monsters don't talk,_ he thinks, then shakes his head. He points his sword at the dragon. "I've c-come to slay you, monster!"

[[You know that I will kill you if you try.]]

"I don't care about that!" He tightens his grip around his sword. "I have to do this. There are other people that deserve to live more than me. I-I'm here for their sake! As long as I can kill you, it doesn't matter if I die!"

[[You people are all the same. All you do is kill and kill. And for what purpose?]] Its eyes burn hot with anger, and its lips curl back in a snarl, exposing rows of needle-sharp teeth.

"My p-purpose," Emil says, "is to cleanse our land of monsters like you."

[[You think this land belongs to you? How typically arrogant.]] The dragon's eyes narrow. [[That foolishness will be the end of you.]]

"I didn't come here to be lectured by a monster," Emil says, scowling. In his chest, his heart is pounding and the blood rushes past his ears. "Fight me, damn it!"

[[Very well. But know that it will be over very quickly,]] the dragon says, and with that it pounces forward at him, its brutally curved talons poised to eviscerate him from head to toe.

He dodges to one side and brings up his sword to deflect the blow, and the sharp talons scrape against the steel of his blade. The dragon lands and digs its claws into the rocky earth before gathering its legs beneath itself and lunging forward again. This time, Emil ducks underneath its grasping claws and raises his sword to slash at the dragon's furred underbelly. The sword cuts a shallow gash, sending blood flecks across the stone, and in exchange the tip of the dragon's claw scores a scratch across Emil's forehead. A trickle of hot blood runs down the side of his face.

The dragon hisses and bares its fangs, snapping its teeth in Emil's direction. Its sharp teeth scrape across Emil's armor and dig gashes into his shoulder. But he hardly feels the pain as he brings his sword up again, this time stabbing it towards the dragon's front paw. He doesn't puncture anything vital, but red blood drips from the wound, and the dragon lets out an ear-splitting shriek of pain.

The loud noise staggers Emil for long enough that he doesn't notice the dragon's tail sweeping towards him until it's too late. The long, muscular tail collides with Emil's chest and sends him sprawling back towards the entrance of the cave, knocking him off his feet and the breath out of his lungs. As Emil scrambles to his feet, gasping as his lungs struggle to reclaim oxygen, the dragon pivots to face him, a look of condescension in its glowing eyes.

[[You cannot defeat me,]] it says as it stands over Emil. [[You should give up. This is a futile effort.]]

"I won't give up. You hurt people I care about. You took my friend away from me," Emil says as he staggers to his feet. Blood drips into his right eye from the cut in his forehead, and he wipes his arm across to clear his vision. "And you destroyed our home."

[[Your people are the reason this land is dying,]] the dragon says as it unfurls its wings. [[You should never have come here!]] It flaps its massive wings once, then again, sending howling gusts of wind across the plateau as it lifts into the air.

The force of the wind is so strong that Emil has to brace himself against the rocky entrance to the cave to remain standing upright. He shields his eyes with one hand as he keeps his gaze trained on the dragon as it circles above the mountaintop.

"Hey, no fair!" he shouts, waving his sword at it ineffectually. "Come back down so I can fight you properly!"

As though in response, the dragon tucks its wings into its body and pulls itself into a dive. It plummets to the earth at an almost blindingly fast speed, and it seems as though it's about to crash into the mountain, but it spreads its wings at the last minute to abruptly slow its descent. It passes by Emil, brandishing its talons, and catches one of them on his armor, tearing through the leather and sending the chest piece flying away from his body and down off the side of the mountain. The dragon sails past and out over the valley again. Then, it circles back around for another pass.

This time, Emil readies his sword. He has a better grasp on the dragon's speed and angle of attack now, and he holds his weapon out in the direction where the dragon is coming from, holding it as steady as he can and digging his heels into the ground. As the dragon dives for him once again, Emil rises to meet it. All of the pounding blood and adrenaline stills for a moment, as he dodges to the side of the dragon's dive attack at the same time that he thrusts the sword's blade into the leather webbing of the dragon's wing.

The dragon keens in pain, and Emil's sword is wrenched out of his grasp as it remains lodged in the dragon's wing. It flies off again, its trajectory wobbly and lopsided. More blood drops rain across the rocks. Then, the dragon reaches a claw up to its hurt wing and, while remaining in midair, plucks at the hilt of the sword. Its agonized screech echoes in Emil's ears, but the sword falls out from its wing and clatters to the ground on the far side of the plateau, soaked in its blood.

Emil starts for the fallen sword, but just then the dragon comes in for a landing, the impact of its weight causing the rocks to tremble beneath his feet. It stands in between Emil and the sword, its burning-hot gaze fixed upon him. Where before its eyes held an air of superiority, now they burn with a pure, unadulterated hatred as it closes in on him.

[[I tried to show you mercy, as you are still young,]] the dragon says as its talons bite into the ground. It approaches Emil, one step after the next. Its hurt wing hangs low on its body and it walks with a slight limp. [[If you had lain down your arms, I might have spared your life. But now I see that such mercy would be pointless.]]

It's as the dragon approaches step by step that Emil realizes just how doomed he is. The dragon has only been toying with him this entire time, like a cat torments its prey. Now, with his armor torn off and his weapon thrown away, he's completely defenseless. All it will take is a single swipe of those cruel claws or a snap of its teeth to end Emil's life.

The dragon tucks its wings in close to its body and pounces with both front claws extended. From this close, Emil doesn't have time to react and dodge as the dragon grabs ahold of both of his shoulders and slams his body into the ground. His head collides with the gravel earth, and the impact causes a field of white stars to bloom against the black of his closed eyes. When Emil looks up again, he finds himself staring up at the bared fangs and glowing, enraged eyes of the dragon.

[[We are not thoughtless killers, unlike your own kind,]] says the dragon, its jagged teeth inches away from Emil's face. [[But now, I think killing you will be a mercy on the rest of the world, so that it won't have to bear your recklessness any longer.]]

Emil thinks it's going to snap him up in one bite, but then a light begins to glow in the back of the dragon's throat, and he realizes it's readying its fire breath. A single blast of its flames will incinerate his body to ashes.

 _Well,_ Emil thinks, _at least it's a fitting way for me to go._

As he gazes up at the jaws of certain death, Emil becomes aware of a shadow up above, gliding across the sunset sky. Although it appears small and distant at first, it begins rapidly growing in size and Emil realizes it's approaching their location. The dry heat from the dragonfire radiates across his face, and Emil is just seconds away from oblivion but he finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from the winged speck that's hurtling towards their location at an unfathomable speed.

The winged form draws closer, and Emil can't believe his eyes. It's a _second_ dragon. And not just any dragon: it's the silver dragon with blue eyes. The exact same one from Emil's memories.

[[ LET HIM GO! ]]

The silver dragon drops out of the sky and rams its entire body into the gray dragon, knocking it off from where it has Emil pinned underneath its talons. The impact causes its flame breath to go wide, scorching the ground beside his head with blazing hot dragonfire, but just barely missing Emil. The momentum of the impact sends both dragons careening off the edge of the plateau and down towards the valley below.

Emil scrambles to his feet and runs to the edge of the precipice just in time to see both dragons rise up in the air again, locked in ferocious combat. Although the gray dragon is larger, the silver seems to be quicker, and it nimbly weaves between the great blasts of dragonfire spat out by the gray. The silver dances around its opponent, and with its sharp claws in its catlike paws, it drags bloody scratch-marks across the gray dragon's face and wings. The larger dragon roars in anger, the sound echoing across the valley.

He's never seen anything like it before. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that there was more than one dragon, or that they would _fight_ one another. He just doesn't understand it. How come the silver dragon intervened just then? Had it just intentionally saved Emil's life?

A peculiar feeling burns within Emil's chest as he watches the silver dragon glide and dance effortlessly through the air, as sharp and keen as a knife's edge. The setting sun glints off its fur, the rust-red patterns shining across its back and its wings. It's elegant and magnificent. _How could something so beautiful be a monster?_

As the dragons spiral through the air, claws and wings intertwined, Emil dashes across the plateau to where his sword lies on the ground, soaked with the gray dragon's blood. He picks it up and uses the corner of his cape to wipe it clean, and holds it out, staring up at the fight above.

Overhead, the silver dragon sinks its fangs into the back of the gray dragon's neck, and its pained roar causes the air itself to tremble. The two massive creatures drop sharply in altitude, plummeting down to the ground below. They collide with the rocky earth in a spray of dust and rubble.

The silver dragon recovers faster, and pounces atop the wings of the larger gray dragon, pinning it to the earth. Then, it lunges forward with sharp teeth and catches the gray around the back of its neck. It uses this leverage to wrestle the larger dragon down to the ground and stands on top of its wings

[[ MY TERRITORY, ]] The silver's voice echoes as it presses down on the gray dragon's wing. [[ YOU WILL REGRET HURTING HIM, INTRUDER. ]]

Emil approaches closer. The gray dragon's neck is exposed, helpless while it lies pinned beneath the paws of the silver. Like this, it would be so easy to deliver the killing blow. He holds out his sword in trembling hands, positioning it across the neck of the immobile dragon.

"D-don't move," Emil tells it, his voice trembling just a little.

[[So that's it, is it? You joined forces with the enemy,]] replies the gray from where it lies trapped, its orange-glowing eyes trained onto the silver. [[Never thought I'd see the day where dragons would betray their own kind. This human must have ensnared you with some powerful spell.]]

[[ SHUT UP, ]] commands the silver dragon, digging its claws into the leather of the larger dragon's wing, causing red blood to well up around the puncture marks.

The gray dragon looks over at Emil now. [[If you're going to kill me, then do it,]] it says. [[The darkness will take us both either way.]]

Emil draws in a shaky breath. The keen edge of steel scrapes against the tender flesh beneath the dragon's throat, causing shallow drops of blood to well up. His future is in his hands now. With the creature at his mercy, all it will take is a single strike to complete his quest, to regain his honor and dignity and everything that the ill winds of fate have burned away.

He raises his sword and--

"No! Wait! STOP!!" shouts a high-pitched voice.

The sound of another person's voice, so unexpected, shatters his concentration. Emil lowers his sword and looks up in the direction of the sound, and sees a human figure cresting the top of the plateau. The person stares at the scene with both dragons and Emil, and immediately sprints over towards them. As they draw closer, the rays of the setting sun catch in her fluffy ash-gray hair, and Emil has a shock of recognition.

The silver dragon looks up at her, too, its sapphire eyes gone wide, all its aggression instantly gone from its posture. It releases the gray dragon from the grasp of its jaws and re-sheaths its claws.

[[ TUURI, ]] it says.

"Tuuri?" Emil exclaims, astonished. "You're alive?!"

Tuuri runs up to them and drops to her knees, panting and gasping for air. But when she speaks, rather than addressing Emil she looks towards the gray dragon, that lays broken and battered beneath the silver's clutches.

"Onni," she gasps, and strokes a hand along the ridge of the gray dragon's snout, ruffling the bloody clumps of fur. "What have they done to you?"

[[Nothing more than I deserve,]] rumbles the gray dragon in response.

"Wait a minute," Emil says, confused. "You _know_ this dragon? What's going on here?"

Tuuri straightens up. Now she looks up at Emil. But rather than an expression of gratitude for being rescued, her gray eyes look hurt and enraged. "I could ask the same of you," she says, her voice colder than Emil's ever heard it before. "What are you doing here on top of this mountain? Why are you trying to kill my brother?!"

"Your-- your _brother?!_ " Emil gapes in disbelief. "But that's a _dragon_!"

Tuuri steps back. She looks at Emil, and then up at the silver dragon, and then back to Emil. "You really don't know," she says in disbelief. "Lalli didn't tell you, did he?"

"Tell me what?" Emil has never been more confused in his entire life.

"Lalli," Tuuri says, and looks up at the silver dragon. "It's you, isn't it?"

In response, the silver approaches, arching its long neck towards her. Tuuri reaches up and strokes a hand across the short, soft fur on the dragon's muzzle, then runs her fingers through the longer strands of hair that frame its face and its pointed ears. It stares at her, blue eyes wide.

"You should tell Emil the truth, you know," she says. "You two have come this far already."

The silver dragon closes its eyes. As Emil watches, its body begins to dissolve into particles of light, starting with its tail and wing tips, fragmenting into glittering stars that drift off on a nonexistent breeze and vanish. Soon, its whole body is covered in glowing blue, and when the light fades away what remains is a slim human figure, crouched with his head bowed down.

Lalli opens his eyes and looks over at Emil. The blue glow in his irises fades to silver. After a beat, his eyes flutter closed and he slumps over, unconscious.

Emil's sword clatters uselessly to the ground below as he stares at Lalli. Conflicting emotions roil across his mind. The first feeling is overwhelming relief, which soothes over his troubled soul like balm on a burn: _Lalli is alive._

But that relieved feeling is immediately drowned out by the force of shock and disbelief at what he'd just witnessed with his own eyes: _Lalli is a DRAGON?!_

Tuuri turns her back on them and faces towards the cave entrance. "It's getting dark. You'd better come inside," she says to Emil, and gestures towards the unconscious Lalli. "Bring my idiot cousin, too. There's a whole lot that we need to talk about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More art:  
> [Dragon Onni](https://imgur.com/2MqM4KK)  
> [Character Height Comparison](https://imgur.com/t9SCTPf)


	9. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the battle, some long-buried truths come to light.

-*-*-*-

Inside of the cave, Tuuri makes them tea using herbs and berries gathered from the mountainside.

Emil accepts the warm, steaming ceramic cup she hands him, and clutches it like it's the only thing that's real in a world where nothing makes sense anymore. He stares at the dark, rippling water and feels like he's about to fall off the face of the earth, only just barely holding on with the tips of his fingers.

The cup is chipped but functional. The same description applies to much of his surroundings. The inside of the cave, in contrast to the wind-blasted steppe outside, is sheltered and homey. A variety of curious objects line its interior, from old musical instruments to books to slightly threadbare rugs and woven cloth tapestries. Emil has heard stories about dragons gathering hoards of countless riches, precious gems and gold; the pile of objects here could perhaps be worth a few coins in the hands of an eccentric collector, but not much else besides.

There is a fire pit dug out in the center of the cavern, with a brazier below and a wide flat rock suspended over the top for cooking. Normally, staring at fires helps calm Emil down, but this fire in particular was lit by a fiery exhale of breath from the large gray dragon, Onni, who lies curled-up in the back of the cave.

Emil sits atop a bed of reindeer pelts and other animal furs which softens the hard stone ground. Beside him, also on the furs with his head supported by a cushion, is Lalli. He's still unconscious, breathing gently, his facial expression for once untroubled. Emil looks at him now, and for a moment sees the silver dragon he was mere moments ago. Affection and apprehension mingle together in his mind.

Tuuri has approached Onni and is fussing over his injuries. Between Emil's sword and the silver dragon's claws and teeth, the gray dragon's body is peppered with scrapes and deeper cuts, and one of his wings has a large tear in it. Over the fire, she heats a basin of warm water and soap -- _actual soap!_ \-- and uses it to dab at the dragon's wounds, cleaning away the dirt and the blood. As she does so, she murmurs quiet words in forest-language, in a tone both loving and chastising. Watching the two of them, the girl and the dragon, Emil can almost believe they are sister and brother, as absurd as that idea seems to him. Tuuri punctuates her scolding by lightly rapping Onni on his snout, and the dragon looks ashamed, if such an expression is possible on the face of a fiery death-bringer.

Tuuri notices Emil staring. She looks up and gives him a half-smile and a sigh as she washes the bloodstains out of Onni's fur. "It's okay, Emil. I know you must be feeling pretty confused right now."

"You can certainly say so!" Emil stares at the great gray dragon, then looks over at Lalli, shaking his head in furious disbelief. "How is this possible? You-- he was just-- that's a _dragon_!"

Tuuri nods. "Do you remember the story I told you once? About how dragons are the protectors of our land? Well, I didn't tell you everything." She looks over at the face of the gray dragon, with his tufted owl ears and bloody scratch marks across his snout. "Some of our people can turn into dragons, if we are born with the silver dragon's blessing. That's what it _really_ means to have dragon's blood."

"But-- that's-- that's impossible," Emil says, in denial despite the fact that he'd just seen Lalli turn from a dragon into a human not minutes ago.

"It's not impossible. It's magic." She crosses her arms, frowning.

"Does that mean _you're_ a dragon, too?"

Tuuri shakes her head. "No, I'm not. I don't have any magical power. My brother and cousin got it from our grandmother, Ensi."

"Your brother..." Emil glances over towards the gray dragon, Onni. If they truly _are_ related, as Tuuri says, then why doesn't he turn back into a human? Surely it would be easier to tend to his wounds if they were human-sized.

It's as he ponders this that he realizes something else: the mystery of Lalli's injuries, how they showed on his skin but not his clothes, makes perfect sense now. The wounds must have been suffered when he was in dragon form, and then transferred to his human body after he changed back. Even now, the remnants of the fight he'd just had, the talon-marks from Onni and older wounds, are visible on the exposed bits of skin Emil can see. Some of the old ones have stitched over already, though -- was he using magic to recover his own injuries, too? _And we just travelled all this way. And he just saved my life,_ Emil thinks. _No wonder he's exhausted._

There are still so many questions Emil wants to ask, though. What does it mean, that Lalli is a dragon? How long has he kept this secret? Why did he show himself in the skies over Keuruu that night? Emil thinks back to that chaotic night of the festival, when the silver dragon appeared shortly before the invading horde of beasts. He'd wondered then why the dragon hadn't attacked them or used its fire breath. Could Lalli have been trying to warn them instead?

 _Oh, Gods,_ thinks Emil. _I shot him with my crossbow. I was trying to kill him._ And in return, Lalli had saved Emil's life, carried his injured body to safety after they fell out of the sky, and protected him from the rampaging trolls. He covers his face with his hands and wants to scream. What has he done to deserve any of this? All he's ever done is hurt the people he cares the most about...

"Emil." Tuuri's soft voice distracts him from his negative spiral of regret. Her expression is gentle, kind and sympathetic. "It's going to be okay. Onni's hurt, yes, but these injuries will all heal. Honestly, there's not much you could've done with just a sword. If Lalli hadn't come when he did..." she lets out a sigh of exasperation. "Honestly, you men are ridiculous, trying to kill each other all the time. If you had just bothered to _talk_ about it, instead of fighting, Onni could have told you that I'm completely fine."

Emil looks at her. She's wearing her signature look of fond irritation, her cheeks puffed up; with her hair, he's reminded of a fluffy squirrel. This familiar expression, combined with the strangeness of seeing her seated against the flank of the great gray dragon, causes Emil's thoughts to turn chaotic again.

"Are you really?" Emil asks. "That dragon-- it-- he _abducted_ you!" He gestures towards the gray dragon. "How can you be alright with that?

" _Alright with_ \-- Emil, Onni saved my life that night," Tuuri says. "When the trolls attacked our base, he swooped in, rescued me and brought me here. And yeah, I was terrified at first, but..." She runs a hand over the mottled gray fur on his flank. "This entire time, I thought my brother was _dead_. I'm just so relieved to have him back."

"But, he's..." Emil falters. He can't just forget being pinned beneath its talons, staring upwards as it prepared to incinerate him with dragonfire. He can't shake the anxiety it gives him, sitting alone in a cave with the dragon that nearly killed him just that evening. "No offense, but... if he's really your brother, then why's he still a dragon? Why doesn't he change back into a person?"

[[I cannot,]] Onni rumbles in his deep voice inside all of their minds. Emil flinches. He'd assumed the large dragon was asleep.

Tuuri cards her fingers through the furry mane that runs down the back of Onni's neck. "There's something wrong with Onni's magic. He hasn't been able to change back into his human form for many years. Not ever since the soldiers took our home town."

"Oh," Emil says. Despite the warmth of the cave, he shivers. But there's something about what Tuuri just said that confuses him. "Wait... I thought you said your home was destroyed by trolls?"

[[Lies,]] Onni says. [[All lies.]]

"It happened when Lalli and I were really young, so I don't remember very much," says Tuuri. "I remember hearing screaming and seeing fire outside. Grandma Ensi told us to hide in the cellar and not to make a sound, while she and Onni and our parents stayed outside to protect us. Lalli and I must have waited there for hours. When we finally came out, our village was in ruins, Onni was gone and our parents and grandma Ensi... they were all..." Tuuri trails off. Her hands tremble a little bit as she curls her fingers into the longer fur on Onni's tail. "The military took me and Lalli in, after that. They told us it was a troll attack. I had no reason not to believe them... but Onni remembers more."

[[That was the day the Scanian Army took our home village.]] Onni looks directly at Emil, his glowing-ember eyes narrowed to slits. Emil feels hyper-aware of the Army insignia emblazoned across his armor. [[They unleashed a troll into the camp themselves, then used it as an excuse to tear our village apart and burn it to the ground.]]

"Wh-- _why?!_ " Emil sputters in disbelief. "Why would they do something like that?!"

[[They were searching for me.]] Onni sighs, a deep tone that reverberates against the rock walls. [[For anyone who bears the dragon's blood. Their purpose was to exterminate all dragonkind.]]

"Before our lifetime, there used to be way more dragons here in Suomi," Tuuri says. "Like the myths all say, they were the protectors of our people. They defended us against threats, like the beasts and trolls that come out of the ground at night. When the Army came from Scania, the dragons fought against them too. So the Army began wiping them out, so that the dragons couldn't stop them from conquering Suomi and making it a part of the Scanian empire."

"That's not true!!" Emil clasps his hands over his ears and shakes his head furiously. "The Army -- they wouldn't do something like that!"

[[Your Army is not here for peace,]] Onni says. [[They have bathed Suomi in the blood of its own people. Now, without dragonfire to cleanse the land, the dark creatures are multiplying in numbers. Soon the entire land will be overrun with darkness and uninhabitable.]]

"But -- that -- that doesn't make any sense! We’re supposed to be the ones who protect people...."

"I know this is hard to hear," Tuuri says. "I was shocked when Onni told me, too. I've spent my entire life working for the Army. They raised me and Lalli after our parents were killed, provided us with an education, taught me how to speak Scanian and everything else. They promised to protect us and keep us safe. But now I know that all was just a lie to keep us under their control."

"It can't have all been a lie," Emil protests. He points a trembling finger towards Onni. "Besides, Keuruu was attacked by a dragon! _Twice!_ That could have killed us!"

[[When I attacked your outpost, I was not aiming to kill any of your men,]] Onni says. [[I targeted the ships and armory, so that the soldiers could not harm any more of my kind.]]

"So it _was_ you." Emil's hunch had been correct. Of the two dragons he now knew, Lalli would have had no reason to attack his own home.

"Emil, do you remember what I told you on the day that you arrived? That it was a miracle from the Gods that no one died in the fire? Well, that was sort of true," Tuuri says. "Despite… well, despite everything, my brother isn't violent by nature. He wouldn't have wanted to harm any of us, even soldiers from the Army. Not if he could help it."

"But Tuuri and Lalli were there! They still could have been hurt!" Emil protests.

The large dragon heaves a regretful sigh. [[I did not know they were there at the time. If I had known, I would have come for Tuuri and Lalli sooner. I only realized they were nearby when I heard a cry for help in my dreams.]]

 _A cry for help?_ Emil thinks back to before the monsters attacked Keuruu. He recalls the strange dream he'd had where Lalli was using magic to keep the dark creatures at bay. When they were on the verge of being overwhelmed by darkness, were his desperate shouts heard by this dragon?

Onni rustles his wings. [[I recognized it as my cousin, but it took me several days to determine where the call originated. I was almost too late. I was able to rescue Tuuri, but Lalli yet eluded me. All I could do was sense his energy, to know that he was still alive.]]

 _Just like how Lalli was able to sense Tuuri_ , Emil recalls.

"When Onni told me Lalli was okay, I was so relieved," Tuuri says. "Well, almost as relieved as I was to realize my long-lost brother was alive, too. And... also a dragon. I wonder if Lalli knows he saved me." She casts a wistful glance over towards her cousin's unconscious form. She leans in his direction but seems reluctant to leave Onni's side.

Emil looks down at him, too. He wishes Lalli could wake up, to be a part of this conversation. Without even thinking about it, he reaches out a hand to smooth his ash-gray hair away from his sleeping face. Then, realizing how intimate the gesture must look, and how weird it was to be fussing with Lalli's hair while he's unconscious, he snatches his hand back and holds it close to his chest. _What is going on with him_?

He glances back towards Tuuri and Onni, and catches Tuuri's eye as she watches him, wearing a small, fond smile on her face. There's a sparkle in her eye.

"Emil…" Tuuri says, and Emil flinches away, his spine straight, trying to pretend nothing happened. Tuuri regards him with a knowing expression. "My cousin… he's someone special to you, isn't he?"

"I, uhh," Emil stumbles over his words in response, his face red. He'd forgotten that other people were in the room. Naked displays of affection that were okay when it was just him and Lalli were less okay with other people watching them.

"It's all right, you know," Tuuri gives him a kind, bright smile. "I get how it is. He's special to us, too. There's nobody else quite like him."

[[Lalli is more powerful than I could have imagined,]] Onni says, and his glowing orange eyes fall on Lalli's prone form.

A thought occurs to Emil. "Wait… if the Army has been killing people with dragon blood, like you said, then why haven't they tried to kill Lalli?"

"We kept it hidden," says Tuuri. "The true nature of his magical power was a secret between us. That is, until you came along."

"...Why me?"

She glances at Lalli. "Lalli said we should trust you. I've never known him to trust anyone else like that before. But, his instincts are usually reliable, so I trusted you, too."

Tuuri's words provoke a roiling emotion in Emil's gut. They thought he was trustworthy? He doesn't deserve their trust; not when he had been lying to them the entire time about the purpose of his mission. He'd been sent there to _kill_ them.

Onni gives an impatient snort, and wisps of smoke spew from his nostrils. The expression of anger causes Emil to flinch back. [[The Army has done worse than try to kill my cousin. They have been working to turn him into a weapon against his own kind.]]

"Hey, no! Lalli wasn't-- he didn't come here to fight you," Emil objects. "He just wanted to save Tuuri."

[[Then we could have spoken, dragon to dragon,]] Onni says. He stretches out a foreleg which is covered in wounds and deep score marks. His long, narrow tongue, serrated like a cat's, licks at the injury. [[He attacked me with all the ferocity of a beast trained to hunt.]]

Emil thinks back to the fight. Though it was just that evening, it seemed so long ago. He recalls how Lalli's dragon form had swept in with claws and teeth, dive-bombing Onni and flinging him off the side of the mountain before he had the chance to incinerate Emil.

"He was – _protecting_ me," Emil realizes, and a soft feeling blooms in his heart at the idea.

Onni looks displeased. [[Maybe so,]] he rumbles in his mental voice. [[But that doesn't explain why _you_ are here, soldier.]]

The dragon's words produce a sick feeling in the pit of Emil's stomach, and a nervous buzzing in his head. If what Tuuri and Onni have just said is true -- and despite everything, Emil knows in his gut they wouldn't lie about this -- then Emil's quest to slay the dragon is less about heroic sacrifice and more about literal _genocide_. He'd been on the verge of throwing away his life not hours ago, and for what? To protect the people that he cares about? Both Tuuri and Lalli are safe in this room, no thanks to him. He wasn't doing anything heroic. He was just keeping his head down and obeying orders like a good soldier. What if he'd actually gone through with it?

"I..." Emil stares at the palms of his hands. There are still dark smears of dried blood between the creases of his skin. "I was given a mission."

Tuuri glances up at him, worried. "A mission? From the army?"

His hands curl into trembling fists. "Yeah. I had orders directly from the King himself. They said it was the only way I could earn back the Västerström family's noble title." He tries to continue but finds himself unable to speak the words aloud. Instead, he stares into the heart of the fire, a dark miasma of regret roiling inside of his chest.

After a beat, Tuuri asks, "What kind of orders, Emil?"

Finally, something inside him snaps. He looks up, and points towards Onni. "I was sent here to kill you! Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?!"

Tuuri gasps, and covers her mouth with one hand. "Emil! That can't be -- tell me it isn't true!"

He grasps his hands into fists, imagines gripping the hilt of his sword, which presently leans against the wall by the entrance to the cave. The feelings of regret intensify, and black static licks at the edges of his vision, like tongues of flame.

"It's true. Ever since before I arrived at Keuruu... those were my orders. 'Slay the dragon'."

Onni snorts in displeasure, spewing wisps of smoke from his nostrils. [[Hmph. Truly just another dog of the military. He can't be allowed to return to his Army with our secrets. Perhaps I should still kill him.]]

"Onni, no!" Tuuri protests. "Emil's not like that. Now that he knows the truth, he won't hurt anyone. Right?" She looks up at him with hopeful eyes.

Emil looks at her and the gray dragon, then glances towards Lalli by his side. He feels sicker. His mission, for so long the guiding principle behind all his actions, has now become a contradictory mess. _Dragons are people. Lalli is a dragon. The Army is hurting the people of Suomi._ But still...

"I don't know," Emil says. Immediately, Onni's eyes widen and the dragon glares at him, making him flinch away in fear. "I've already ruined everything else... I can't... I don't deserve your trust..."

[[Then you truly are a fool.]]

Emil looks down. "...Yes. I am," he admits. The nausea in his gut becomes more intense. It feels overwhelming, as though he is about to pass out.

"But..." protests Tuuri, "Lalli trusted him. He doesn't trust anybody normally. That should count for something! Right?!"

Thinking about Lalli causes him to fall apart further. The static, buzzing at the edges of his perception, spreads like burning black circles across his field of vision.

"Are you feeling alright, Emil? You look pale." Tuuri's voice is laced with concern.

"...I'm sorry," Emil murmurs, as at last the static takes over. He slumps backwards, unable to hold his body upright any longer. The cup of tea falls out of his grasp and shatters into pieces on the stone floor of the cave. 

Tuuri gasps, and her worried look is the last thing Emil sees as his eyelids flutter closed and he falls into unconsciousness.

-*-*-*-

_Emil sits up on the couch in his family's dining room parlor, dislodging fluffy pillows and woven wool blankets that have been draped across his body. He blinks a few times, rubs at his eyes and takes in his surroundings._

_The first thing he sees is the dinner spread across the table in the center of the room, laden with food as always: frosted cakes and fruit tarts, roast fish and mulled wine, and other delicacies that line the table full to bursting. All of the food is pristine, as though it was just prepared by the family cook. The fresh-cooked meat emits trailing lines of steam, and the wine effervesces in its decanter. The spread is so extravagant that Emil cannot tell where it ends: the feast stretches as far as the eye can see in both directions. As always, though, the sights and aromas spark no hunger within him; it is as though each dish is an empty shell, the mere suggestion of a meal rather than anything that satisfies._

_The second thing he notices is that, for once, he is not alone in the room._

_Seated on the opposite end of the couch, down by Emil's feet, is Lalli. He's wearing that strange outfit again, with the thick fur cloak and his tunic embroidered with runes. He looks out-of-place among all the opulent finery, and even his colors are different, silver and blue moonlit hues in contrast with the hearthfire-warm reds and golds that surround him._

_He regards Emil with wide eyes. "You're here," he says, sounding a little surprised, but not very._

_"I should imagine so," Emil says, haughtily. "This is my family's home."_

_"This is a dream. You're dreaming."_

_"...Oh," Emil says. Then, "I knew that."_

_Lalli stares at him in silence for a moment, his silver eyes meeting Emil's with a knowing look. There's a new understanding that hangs in between them, now that his secret is out in the open._

_Emil breaks the silence first. "I'm glad you're okay," he says, honestly. He longs to reach over and touch him, to prove that he's really there. His hands twitch against the wool blanket, but he doesn't let himself move. "I seriously thought I'd lost you. I don't know what I would have done..."_

_"You climbed a mountain," Lalli points out. "And almost got yourself killed again."_

_Emil winces. "Yeah. Sorry about that." He remembers Lalli's dramatic entrance as a dragon, swooping in to rescue Emil from Onni's flame breath. "You saved my life. I... really don't even know how I can thank you at this point."_

_"Maybe you could try to not put yourself in danger like that in the future," Lalli replies, deadpan._

_That suggestion draws a soft laugh from Emil. There's something about Lalli's words that are unusual, and he thinks for a moment trying to figure out what it is. Finally it hits him. "Hey, you're speaking in complete sentences. Does that mean we can understand each other here?"_

_Lalli nods. "There are no languages in dreams. Not even really words. Everything is emotion, and magic." He studies Emil with that curious look again. "These aren't normal people dreams. Only Mages can enter this dream space. I don't know how you keep ending up here."_

_"Maybe I'm magic too?" Emil guesses._

_Lalli shakes his head. "I don't see a single spark of magical power in you," he says bluntly._

_Emil deflates. He's secretly been holding on to hope that he could learn to do magic, too. Of course, he was just an ordinary person the whole time. "If I'm nothing special, then... why me?"_

_"I don't know. I'm searching for some kind of explanation, but I haven't figured it out yet. Not in all of your dreams I've watched."_

_A shiver runs down Emil's spine. "...Wait, you've been watching me?!"_

_"Hard not to," Lalli says. "You're very... loud. When you sleep. It's hard to ignore."_

_"That doesn't even make sense!" Emil shakes his head. "I feel like everything I know is completely backwards..."_

_"That's because it is," Lalli says._

_"Like, why do I keep ending up here? Why are you here? And why didn't you tell me you were a_ dragon _, Lalli?" His voice strains on the last question, sliding up and almost breaking. The weight of all his shattered beliefs feels like it's hanging over his head, held up by flimsy support beams that sag under the enormity of his emotions. If he thinks about it too hard, it will all come crashing in and drown them both. So he tries not to, and pictures the lockbox instead, where his darkest feelings are stored._

_Lalli looks down. "I was... waiting for you," he says. "Waiting for the right time."_

_Frustration mingled with hurt seethes in Emil's chest, but he tamps it down and places it inside of the box. His eyes search Lalli's face, and he reminds himself how relieved he is that Lalli is alive and safe, no matter the circumstances. The relief is a salve over the burn of emotional pain. When he speaks, his words are soft, a near-whisper. "At least I finally know the truth now."_

_"I've kept it secret my entire life. I wasn't sure... how you'd react."_

_Blood and dragonfire. "It's probably better you didn't," Emil says with a sigh. "I probably wouldn't have handled it very well."_

_Lalli continues not meeting Emil's eyes. He laces his fingers in the thick fur cloak draped across his shoulders. Now that Emil looks at it a little more closely, the fur is silver, with burgundy-red runes on it, a familiar color and pattern. "I was... confused," he says._

_"About what?" The idea that Lalli would feel confused, and not know what to do, is new to Emil. He always acted with such purposeful intent and determination._

_"About you." Lalli's silver eyes look up and meet Emil's now. "That first night, when you wandered into my sanctuary, you woke me up."_

_"S-sorry!" Emil holds out his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I didn't mean to, I swear! I was just... I thought it was just a dream. Something told me I needed to go there, I can't explain it."_

_"No!" Lalli leans towards Emil suddenly. His deft, slender hands grasp Emil's. "Don't... don't be sorry. I didn't become a dragon until that night." His silver eyes flash starlight blue for a moment. "Since we met, my magic has been set alight. I know that it's because of you."_

_This intense outpouring of honesty and emotion is too much for Emil. He flinches away and pulls back, pulse pounding in his chest. "That's good for you," he murmurs through the thick ball of feeling that forms inside of his throat. "But... I'm not who you think I am. I've been hiding the truth from you, too."_

_Emil can't see Lalli's face, but just imagining his expression of loss and betrayal sends another pang of hurt through Emil's chest. In a whispery voice, Lalli asks, "Why?"_

_He draws a deep breath. "Because I was sent here to slay you."_

_"...I know."_

_Emil's eyes widen, and he looks up at Lalli in shock. "You knew?"_

_Since Emil pulled back away from him, Lalli has done the same, drawing the fur cloak around his body. He curls himself up in it like a cat seeking comfort. From within the depths of his fluffy armor, he gives a small nod, not meeting Emil's eyes. "Yes. The last time I came into this place in your dream, I figured that out." He gestures a hand at the Västerström mansion that surrounds them._

_"You remember that dream?!" Emil feels a sickening jolt to his stomach. The last time he dreamed of this place was the time he'd nearly slain Lalli in his dragon shape._

_"As I lay there helpless, you drew your sword. You could have killed me," Lalli says. "But instead, you spared my life. That's when I knew you weren't like the rest of them. I knew I could trust you then."_

_Emil shakes his head rapidly, his hair flying in every direction. "You were wrong," he says in a hoarse voice. "I don't deserve your trust. I'm... a failure. I destroy everything that I touch."_

_Now Lalli just looks confused. He tilts his head at Emil, curious, trying to figure him out. "What are you talking about?"_

_Emil abruptly stands up. The blankets and pillows fall from his lap and scatter across the floor. He looks at his surroundings, this place that is his childhood home but not. Then he turns towards Lalli._

_"As long as we're here, I might as well show you," Emil says. He extends one hand towards him. "Follow me."_

_Lalli reaches out and takes Emil's hand again. Their fingers lace together, and a tiny part of Emil relishes the opportunity to touch him, never wanting to let him go again. But once Lalli sees what lies on the other side of this dream, he probably won't want to stay by Emil's side any longer._

_He then turns away from the dinner spread and faces the window. As in the last dream, it's nighttime, and snow is falling outside. It is piled up in pristine drifts on the hillside, its white blanket covering the entirety of the Västerström estate. Fat snowflakes whirl and dance in the blizzard winds. The dancing flakes and snow drifts are lit from somewhere beyond by a flickering orange light, its source out of sight beyond the hill. But Emil knows where it originates; he has to face it, as painful as it will inevitably be._

_He approaches the wall and reaches for where a door should be. His fingers grasp the knob and it turns, opening a portal out into the wintry storm. Cold air and snowflakes buffet his face and stick in his hair. He raises his free arm to shield his face from the weather as Lalli follows him outside. The door closes behind them and Emil points towards the source of the light on the far side of the hill._

_"That's where we're headed," he says, and the two start to trudge through the knee-deep snow._

_It's slow going. What seemed like a short distance when looking out the window becomes further as they walk, until they are crossing a vast frozen expanse. The winter winds intensify, battering Emil's face and body with blistering cold. He gives a full-body shudder, and then he feels something soft and warm surround him. Surprised, he looks over to see that Lalli has thrown his fur cloak across Emil's shoulders. The soft fur is as warm as a wood stove, and Emil unconsciously leans into the warmth, gratitude pulsing inside his chest._

_He doesn't deserve it, though. When they get to the far side of the frozen hill, Lalli will understand._

_Together, the two of them brave the blizzard, pushing towards that flickering firelight at the top of the hill. At last, they crest the final rise and come into view of the source of the light: the family barn, ablaze._

_A dancing orange light shines from within the building. Smoke and sparks pour out of the upper windows and tongues of flame lick outwards from the crevices between the wooden planks of its exterior. Already the structure is compromised beyond repair, and flaming bits of hay and wood are flung by the wind over towards the mansion that stands just beside it._

_There is a human figure silhouetted against the flames, holding a lantern in one hand and a burning torch in the other. He's younger, and softer in the face, but it's evident who he is._

_It's Emil, on the night of the worst mistake of his life._

_"I remember this," Emil says, staring at his younger self. "It was my fire. I started it."_

_The younger Emil stands transfixed, gazing up at the burning barn with a look of wonder, awe and fear. The expression on his youthful face makes the older Emil's stomach turn. How could he have been so foolish? Why did he have to fall in love with something so dangerous?_

_"I was fascinated. I thought I could control it," he says. "I was wrong."_

_He tears his eyes away from the burning barn for a moment to glance over at Lalli. The mage is staring up at the burning building too, the sharp angles of his cheekbones catching in the light, flames reflected against his silver eyes. That fire has already destroyed everything else Emil cares about; so, why not him, too? It's what Emil deserves._

_As they watch, the wooden pillar that holds the barn upright lets out a resounding_ SNAP! _, and the entire structure starts to collapse inwards. Seeing this happen, the younger Emil takes one step back, then another. The torch he's holding drops into the snow and extinguishes itself with a hiss. The look of awe on his face disappears, replaced with pure horror. Finally he turns away, running as fast as he can through the snow as the barn falls down into itself. The fire has already spread to the toolshed and a nearby pine tree, and the collapsing barn sends more burning debris over towards the roof of the mansion._

_Despite the snow, the embers catch on the wood-shingled roof, and a line of hungry flame ignites on the edge. More and more fires begin to catch, creeping across window frames and nibbling on the ornate carved siding. Through the darkened glass windows, the nobles and servants of the Västerström family sleep blissfully unaware of their impending burning demise._

_"I ran away like a coward, when I saw what I'd done," Emil says as his younger self flees, running away from the mansion, the flickering light in his lantern shining out against the winter storm. "If I'd warned them... if I'd been even a little bit braver, then, maybe..."_

_As they watch the manor burn, time seems to accelerate. The amorphous, glowing beast of the flame grows ever larger, and as it expands its hunger does too. Piece by piece, room by room, Emil's childhood home is consumed, along with everything and everyone he's ever loved._

_The fire then starts to eat into the edges of the dream itself, catching on the very fabric of reality. Pieces of the scenery fragment off and drift apart like so many burning scraps of paper. Emil should be more worried -- this is not a normal dream, after all -- but instead he just feels numb. He looks over at Lalli._

_"So, now you know," he says, his voice heavy with regret. "It's all my fault. I destroy everything I love. I'll most likely destroy you, too."_

_Lalli looks at him, a frown creasing his pale brow. He's beautiful, Emil thinks, the edges of him alive with firelight. He takes a sudden step forward, so that they're face-to-face, mere inches between them. His breath mists in the icy air as he reaches up and grabs Emil by the lapels of his shirt, seizing him and shaking him abruptly._

_"No," Lalli says, and his eyes burn crystal blue. "This is not you."_

_Around their feet, a glowing ring of magic light begins to spread. As the burning dream closes down around them, the circle of magic pushes back against it. There is a sound akin to fabric tearing as a hole seems to rip open through reality itself, as Lalli pulls them out of the flames and into a floating black oblivion beyond._

_As Emil's eyes adjust to the darkness, he realizes they aren't just floating in an empty void. On all sides they are surrounded by glittering stars. The night sky stretches overhead and below their feet. Behind Lalli, the full moon shines with silver light, catching its glow in the fur of his cloak._

_"You are not that person anymore," Lalli tells him._

_"...Then... who am I?" Emil asks. He is lost, adrift in a world he does not understand or belong to._

_Lalli's grip tightens against Emil's shirt. His eyes shine with a furious blue light, as he stares at Emil with a look of possessiveness and burning desire. His fur cloak floats around him, curling around in the suggestion of dragon wings._

_"Mine," Lalli says in a low growl as he pulls him in close. "My Emil."_

_In that moment, Emil understands. It is a truth that has eluded him since the beginning of it all. His path to redemption, to forgiveness, to learning to love again, has been before him all this time. There was a reason why Lalli saved his life. The same reason why their dreams were linked together. The same reason why, in his bitterest, darkest moments, Lalli has remained by his side. One simple reason._

_Emil closes the distance between them and kisses him._

_A million tiny lights burst from the blackness of his closed eyes. He flutters his eyelids open, catching the glowing rings of light within Lalli's own as he kisses Emil back, earnestly, needily, as though the heat that pulses between them is the only real thing in the universe._

_They are falling. Perhaps they always were. The light of the stars forms streaks and lines on the tapestry of the night sky all around them as they spiral downwards. Emil feels dizzy, and wanting, and_ right _as he pulls Lalli in, tasting smoke and forest and moonlight._

_He feels a jolt, and opens his eyes once more to see that massive dragon wings have erupted out of Lalli's back where the cloak had once hung. With a powerful flap of his wings, Lalli sends them arching upwards together into the night._

_Weightless, breathless joy explodes inside of Emil's chest. Gravity has no effect on him anymore. Together, they rise up._

_He is flying._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading as always :)  
> Next chapter coming in 2 weeks.


	10. Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that his secrets are revealed, Emil faces a brand new day and all the new feelings it brings.

-*-*-*-

 

Emil stirs and awakens, finding himself nestled in a bed of soft animal furs and woven blankets. He pushes himself to an upright seated position and blinks, bleary-eyed, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings. Rays of bright sunlight shine in through the wide open cave entrance and splash across the stone floor, reflecting onto the walls and the craggy, stalactite-studded ceiling overhead. The diffuse light illuminates the dim interior, playing across stacks of books, clothes and pieces of folk art, ceramic cookware and half-built wooden furniture, and the furred flank of the great gray dragon, Onni, who slumbers in the rear of the cave.

"Aaah!" Emil lets out an unintentional yelp and bolts to his feet, before the memories come rushing back to him. He's still not used to seeing a dragon so close, especially not the one that nearly killed him just outside this very cave, and then threatened to do it again once the truth of Emil's quest came to light. Onni appears to be deeply asleep, though, and even Emil's exclamation of fear does little to rouse him. Breath by breath, Emil's heart rate returns to normal, and he begins to relax.

It's as he lowers his guard that he notices something missing, or rather, someone. Neither Tuuri nor Lalli are anywhere to be seen inside the cave. There are a few un-made beds beside Emil's, though, which tells him that they were there previously, and must have risen earlier than Emil did.

Thinking of Lalli sets his heart at a sprint again, and he remembers that dream they'd shared. _Did that really happen? Did I really tell Lalli the truth about the fire?_ Emil wonders. Then he remembers how the dream ended, which sparks a vivid blush across his face and a coiling heat in his abdomen. He raises one hand to brush against his lips. It had all felt so _real_. But it wasn't. It was only a dream. Wasn't it?

Would Lalli remember any of it? Or had he been a figment of Emil's imagination, too? No matter what, he will have to ask him to find out the truth. Which means he needs to find Lalli, first.

He teeters unsteadily towards the entrance of the cave. His body is still sluggish with fatigue from his journey and battle with the dragons, and his elbow gives a twinge that tells him he _really_ shouldn't have taken it out of its sling before it was fully healed. When he closes his eyes, he can clearly picture Mikkel's stern look of disapproval, admonishing him for taking needless risks with his body and his life.

 _Well, if I hadn't, then I wouldn't have ever made it to this place,_ Emil argues back at the figment of his imagination as he steps into the sunlight beyond the cave entrance.

He raises an arm over his eyes to block out the harsh light. The sun shines directly overhead, which tells him that it must be around midday. The air outside is brisk, but warm in the direct sunshine. As his eyes adjust to the light, he notices a stout figure seated on a rock beside the entrance to the cave.

It's Tuuri, her nose buried in a book; she's so absorbed in what she's reading that she doesn't even notice Emil at first. Stacks of books and rolls of parchment surround her on either side, along with a cup of tea that has long since gone cold. After watching her for about a minute, Emil awkwardly clears his throat.

Tuuri looks up from her reading. When she sees him, a bright smile spreads across her round face. "Oh, hi Emil! You're up!"

"...Hi, Tuuri," Emil says, his voice still hoarse with sleep.

Tuuri shifts her seat to one side and pats the smooth, sun-warmed stone beside her. Emil joins her at her side.

"How did you sleep?" Tuuri asks him.

Emil thinks about the dream he'd had the night before; he has no idea how to answer that question, so he just shrugs. Did Tuuri know about the shared dreams? His eyes search her face. The corner of her mouth is curled in a smile which may or may not be a knowing smirk. He feels suddenly uncertain and vulnerable.

"Did you see Lalli? Do you know where he went?"

Tuuri nods. "Lalli woke up earlier than you did. We had a chat, and then he left to go hunting. He promised to be back by sundown."

A quick glance at the sky tells Emil that sunset won't be for a while yet. That means his questions for Lalli will have to wait. He could ask Tuuri about what she knows, but the last thing he wants to do right now is to dwell on those complicated feelings any further, so he changes the subject instead.

"What are you reading?" he asks, gesturing towards her book she has folded across her lap.

Her face lights up at his question. "Oh, I'm so glad you asked. It's simply fascinating," she says, opening the book again and fluttering the pages until it lands on the page where she was before. The book is old, printed on yellowed parchment, and the text is written in runic symbols which Emil cannot read but assumes is forest-language. The manuscript has been illuminated with colorful illustrations in blue and burgundy inks, with glowing details in gold leaf.

"Most of these books and scrolls belonged to grandma Ensi," Tuuri says. "Some of her collection got burned, but Onni managed to save as much as possible, and has been adding to it bit by bit ever since." Her hands pass across the delicate paper reverently, like she's caressing a loved one. "These books depict the history of my people, our myths and legends and stories about dragons."

Emil peers over her shoulder to get a better look as she turns the page, revealing a stylized drawing of three dragons, intertwined in an aerial dance.

"For instance, did you know that there are dragons outside of Suomi? Or at least there were, once upon a time. This book says that _Norsk_ dragons could spit lightning, while the dragons of Ísland had breath of freezing ice. Isn't that incredible? I thought we were the only ones!"

"Huh," Emil says. "Do you think they're still out there?"

"Well, who knows? I wouldn't bet on it though." Tuuri shakes her head sadly. "In just three decades since invading Suomi, the Scanian Army has managed to exterminate nearly all of its dragons. Norge and Ísland have been a part of Scania for far longer than this country has been. I'd say the chances of any dragons surviving are very unlikely." She looks glum. 

Emil considers this. "Well, aren't dragons just people? Maybe they could be in hiding somewhere."

"...It's possible, I suppose," Tuuri says, looking pensive. "There could even be people who might not know they _are_ dragons!"

"How does that work, anyway?" Emil wonders, thinking of Lalli. "How does someone even know when they are a dragon?"

"Well, the dragon's blood carries immense magical potential, so it's only natural they would be a mage," Tuuri says. She flips through the pages of the book until she comes to another illustration. This illustration depicts an androgynous person wearing a fur cloak embroidered with runes. This person has both hands held outwards, a shining light glowing in each open palm. Silhouetted behind the mage is the shadow of a dragon, wings outstretched, its eyes highlighted in luminous gold leaf. Something about the mage looks uncannily familiar to Emil.

Tuuri taps a finger on the text that runs alongside the illustration. "This book is written in ancient _suomi_ , so I'm not sure exactly what this text means, but it's basically saying that to assume their dragon form, a dragon-blood mage needs a... focus? See, this word here can mean either 'fulcrum' or 'center' or 'heart'. But basically, once the mage finds that thing, whatever it is, then it allows them to change their form."

This description triggers a recent memory within Emil. He remembers what Lalli told him in the dream: _I didn't become a dragon until I met you._ The thought seems ludicrous to Emil. How could he, as an ordinary, flawed, non-magical person, possibly affect somebody as powerful and otherworldly as Lalli?

"I think this could explain why Onni is locked into his dragon shape," Tuuri says. "He's been stuck like that ever since the raid on our village, so around fifteen years ago. My current best guess is that whatever his 'focus' is, it got left back there or destroyed, which prevented him from changing back. If I can find it, whatever it is, and get it back to him, then... I'll truly have my brother back." Her eyes are shining with determination.

"Do you have any idea what it might be?"

Tuuri sighs, and closes the book. "No. And neither does Onni. He's as lost as I am," she says, staring off into space, at the fluffy white clouds that dance across the great upturned basin of the sky, throwing miles-long shadows down to the valley below.

Emil takes a moment to appreciate the view alongside her. The mountain range stretches around the valley's rim, its slopes rugged and wind-blasted, providing shelter for the verdant terrain in the lowlands. Multiple gleaming rivers meander across the landscape and pool into mirrored lakes. The thick, dark forest for which the land is known spreads like a plush carpet from edge to edge on the horizon. Keuruu is out of sight, tucked behind a smaller range of hills, further to the south. It is perhaps the first place in the world he's ever been where almost no sign of human civilization exists.

The wind ruffles the soft, fluffy gray hair atop Tuuri's head, and she sighs again. "You know... when I was a kid, I wanted to travel outside of Suomi, to see the world beyond," she says. "I wanted to know if it really was like the tales say. But after losing our parents, Onni and Ensi, I decided some things were more important than my own selfish desires. Like looking after Lalli. He needed me, just like I needed him. So... I let go of my dreams." She gazes out towards the valley beyond. "Thinking of it, this might be the most of the world I've ever seen." 

At her words, Emil feels a flush of anger, for once not directed at himself. It takes a second before he realizes with some surprise that he is angry at the _Army_ , for what they have done to Tuuri, tearing the Hotakainen family apart, stealing her dreams away from her. What's more is that Emil is comfortable with this anger. It feels _right_ , even though he knows his thoughts are treasonous. Everything the Army has told him about dragons was a lie; and what was done to the people of Suomi is unforgivable.

"It's not right," he says aloud. Tuuri looks up at him, curious. Emil clutches his hands into fists. "If you want to see the world, then you should have that chance, Tuuri. They shouldn't be able to take that away from you."

"Oh, Emil..." Tuuri looks up at him with a sad smile. "You're very kind. But my role here is much too important to leave Suomi behind. If I don't preserve these historical texts, then our culture is at risk of being lost forever." She hops off the rock, and extends a hand back towards Emil. "Anyway, enough dwelling on the past for now. I'd say it's time for lunch, wouldn't you? You must be hungry, after everything that's happened."

At the mention of lunch, Emil's stomach gives an audible growl. It's undignified, sure, but he becomes suddenly aware of the fact that the last thing he had to eat was half of a cup of tea the night before.

A short while later, they are inside of the cave again and Tuuri passes him a bowl filled with wild rice, dried fish, mushrooms and herbs, along with a steaming cup of tea on the side. She apologizes for the lack of fresh meat, explaining she and Onni hadn't been expecting visitors. Emil, whose mouth is full of food already, indicates with a shrug that it's not a problem.

As they sit by the low fire and eat, the large gray dragon shifts in his sleep and stirs awake, opening one slit-pupiled orange eye to look at them. Emil lets out an involuntary "Eep!" in fright and nearly drops his tea cup. Tuuri is almost instantly by her brother's side, another bowl of rice and fish in her hands, which she holds up for Onni to eat from. The dragon is still injured, and some of the cuts on his forehead and wings are seeping dark blood into his thick fur, so Tuuri takes it on herself to tend to his wounds again. As she does, she speaks softly, tenderly chastising him that he needs to worry less and rest more.

Emil doesn't want to draw attention from the dragon — not when he himself is responsible for many of those wounds. He places his empty bowl beside Tuuri's by the fire and slips out of the entrance of the cave.

As he stands outside under the open sky, Emil finds himself — for what feels like the first time in ages — with nothing to do and nowhere to go while he waits for Lalli to return. He decides to explore the area surrounding the cave on the mountain's peak. He saw it before on his climb up yesterday, of course, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to appreciate the scenery at the time. Now, he decides to make himself useful, falling into his usual routine of hunting for wood suitable to burn. The mountaintop area is largely devoid of vegetation, but he explores further down the slope, and after some searching finds a fallen, dead tree not too far down. Once he has gathered several armfuls of dry wood, he hikes the short distance back up to the mountain's peak.

He deposits the stack of firewood by the entrance to the cave and straightens up, dusting wood shards off his tunic. At the sound of his footsteps and the clatter of logs, Tuuri pokes her head out of the cave. When she sees Emil, she smiles in what looks a little bit like relief.

"There you are! I thought you'd wandered off."

Emil looks at the wood, then at her. "Where would I even go?"

Tuuri leaves the cave and sits down on the sun-warmed rock that was her favorite perch from earlier. She looks up at Emil. "Oh, I don't know. Away, maybe? No one's forcing you to stay. Of course, you're always welcome here. It's just... I know it makes you uncomfortable, having dragons around. "

Emil shakes his head. "That's not it," he protests, even though Tuuri has a point, and he really _has_ to stop jumping like a scaredy cat each time Onni as much as sniffs in his direction. "Anyway, I haven't got any place else I _could_ go."

"Then stay," Tuuri says. "It's nice having someone here to talk to. Onni's not much of a conversationalist. And based on what Lalli said about you this morning, I think he'd prefer if you stuck around, too."

Emil freezes. The mention of Lalli's name again makes his stomach lurch in a not-entirely-unpleasant way. He glances over at Tuuri's face and sees that she's wearing her cherubic smile again, the one which he knows means she's probably hiding something.

Thinking about what she could have talked about with Lalli before he flew off that morning sets Emil's head spinning again. He keeps remembering flashes — _the burning dream, streaks of starlight, falling, dragon wings —_  so vivid he has to rub the heels of his hands against his eyes to banish the visions. When his sight clears, Tuuri is still smiling at him in that knowing way. He can feel his face heat up.

"Wh-what exactly... did he say to you? About me," Emil stammers out.

"Oh, well, it's not really my place to say," says Tuuri, looking away innocently. "He confided in me. And I'm very good at keeping Lalli's secrets."

"Don't play around! What did he _tell_ you?!" Emil can't help but get a little worked up. He didn't think Lalli would talk about the secrets Emil revealed to him in their dream, but Tuuri was someone special. If Lalli was going to tell anyone, it had to be her. 

Sensing Emil's agitation, Tuuri's smile falters. "...Oh, you're really worried, huh? Well, don't be," she says, and gives Emil a reassuring pat on his hand. "He was just asking me for advice. About feelings. He's not very good at dealing with them, you see. Tends to hide them away from even himself sometimes. Sound familiar to you?"

"Y-yeah, kinda," Emil stammers. It sounds a little _too_ familiar, in fact.

"And it just so happens that he started experiencing some new feelings for the first time ever. So he asked me what it meant and what he should do about it." Tuuri shrugs. "I'm only a few years older, so I'm not really an expert myself or anything... so I just told him what my mother always told me."

After a beat, Emil asks, "What did she say?"

" _Hold on tight._ That's what she said to me." Tuuri glances in the direction of the cave entrance. "Hold tight and don't let go."

Emil feels that familiar feeling, the burning thing in his chest that crackles and sparks and radiates heat. He thinks he knows what it is now, what it's called, and how it has to do with the fact that he wants to kiss Lalli breathless.

"U-um!" Emil jumps to his feet and starts jogging in place. "Thanks for, um, the advice, Tuuri, I just — need to go over there for a minute, and — do my daily exercises, I completely forgot—"

"Emil, what are you talking about?" She gives him a look like he's a raving lunatic.

"Just— man stuff! Manly stuff! Don't worry about it!" He jogs over towards the opposite side of the plateau.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Tuuri calls after him.

"I'm fine!" he shouts over his shoulder. As he disappears down the mountain slope, he swears he can hear Tuuri's laughter echoing down from the peak.

He jogs a short while until he arrives at a secluded area shaded beneath a tall, sheer cliff. He rests his back against the flat stone and breathes in and out deeply to calm himself down from his epiphany.

He's in love with Lalli. There's no sense in denying it to himself any longer. And he's pretty sure — not positive, but nearly there — that Lalli feels a similar way towards him.

He leans the back of his head against the stone wall and stares up into the sky, mostly blue with a tint of pink around the horizon. He rests his back against the warm smooth stone and watches the clouds shift across the vivid blue sky. It's all so much bigger than he is, and Emil feels like a speck of dust caught in a hurricane. But, he thinks, for once at least he's not alone. He has something worth protecting, and people that would care if he was gone. That should count for something.

The sun is much lower than it was before. The sunset, and the prospect it brings of seeing Lalli again, sends a thrill through him, all the way to his core and even further down.

It's not just that Lalli is beautiful — because he is, to Emil anyway, with the way his silvery eyes catch the light, his lithe and graceful movements, and how he watches things with all of his attention, the way he looks at Emil. Honestly, once Emil starts mentally listing things he likes about him, it's hard to get his mind to slow down or stop. He's magic. He saved Emil's life. He's a _dragon._

That last point should bother Emil more than it does. The fact that he is a magical creature — if the legends are to be believed, the most powerful of all magical creatures —is less of a shocking revelation and more like the missing central piece of the puzzle that is Lalli Hotakainen. If Emil loves Lalli, which he is now certain he does, then he loves that he is a dragon, too. It's simple, really.

Emil thinks about the dream again, remembering how he'd peeled back the layers of his past one by one, and exposed the burning core that was his shame and his loss. Lalli had stood by his side the entire time, staring into the flames, and not flinched away. If anything, he held on even tighter. He forgave Emil, when Emil could not even forgive himself. Ever since they met, Lalli has broken down every single barrier that Emil had built up. He's shown Emil that the impossible is possible.

But try as Emil might to convince himself that this is all real, that Lalli meant it in the dream when he said _this is not you, you aren't that person anymore, you are mine,_ there is still the persistent voice of doubt, of fear, in the back of his mind. The voice that says: _You don't know for sure that it was real. For all you know, it was all just a dream._

It's as he is contemplating this possibility that he becomes aware of a distant winged shape in the sky, gliding on the horizon.

He shields his eyes from the setting sun and peers closer. Reckless, expectant hope pulses inside of him as he stares at the winged form which draws ever closer, gliding across the foothills of the mountain. It's far too large to be a bird, and Emil realizes with excitement that it really is Lalli, the setting sun glinting off silver wings, his long tail trailing in the sky behind him.

As he flies closer Emil notes that the dragon is clutching something in his mouth and front paws. It's the carcass of a reindeer; he did say he was going hunting, after all. He flaps his wings rapidly now, gaining elevation as he flies up the steep slope of the mountain, and the wind begins to pick up around Emil, whipping his hair into crazy shapes. At that very moment, the dragon passes directly overhead, and Emil stares up at him in awe. His sapphire gaze locks with Emil's for the blink of an eye, and then he carves an abrupt sharp turn in the air, circling back down to come in for a landing just a dozen paces away from where he stands.

The whoosh of wind coming off his wings buffets Emil, who stumbles backwards in surprise, his heart pounding and blood rushing in his ears. His frenzied thoughts are moving too fast for his mind to keep up, as he looks up at the dragon, his best friend.

Lalli drops the reindeer he has clutched in his jaws on the far side of the clearing, and turns to face Emil, arching his long, slender neck towards him. The pale silver fur on his face and front paws is stained dark red with the blood of his prey, making him appear like a feral, wild thing. His eyes, brilliant blue and glowing inside with magical light, regard Emil with the same fascination that he always has done, whether in his dragon or human shape.

Without thinking, Emil reaches out a hand towards the dragon. Lalli nudges his snout underneath Emil's outstretched hand. The fur around his muzzle is short and soft to the touch, and the dragon exhales softly, blowing out wisps of smoke from his nostrils.

"...You came back," Emil says in an almost-whisper.

Lalli leans into his touch, and Emil slides his hand over the furry catlike ears, the longer strands of silver hair that frame the dragon's face and resemble Lalli's hair in his human form, and the tufted ridge of fur that runs along the back of his neck. He thought the dragon's fur might feel rough and wiry to the touch, but instead it feels silken, with many tiny hairs clustered closely together to provide shelter from the winter's bite. He's warm, too, like standing beside a bonfire, his blue eyes burning like ultra-hot flames.

His dragon eyes squeeze shut, and his form begins to shimmer, and then -- in a soundless explosion of bright starry light that temporarily blinds Emil -- standing where the dragon was is Lalli, _human_ Lalli, his eyes still closed, Emil's hand still cradling the side of his face. Even in human shape, his face and hands are smeared dark red with dried reindeer blood. Like a true creature of the forest.

He opens his eyes, which flash bright blue and then fade to silver. He meets Emil's eye but remains silent, either having forgotten how to speak or choosing not to.

He's holding something in his hands, a certain small object, brown and square. He extends this out at arm's length towards Emil, gesturing that he should take it.

Emil accepts the thing from Lalli, and when he sees what it is, his heart thunders inside of his chest.

"...My book," he breathes, and runs his thumb up the cracked spine of the small book of poems. Indeed, it's the same exact book he brought with him from his home, thoroughly dog-eared and now stained with reddish smears of reindeer blood on the outside, the last good memory that remains from his old life. "I thought it was gone forever. You... actually found it again."

Lalli nods curtly, his eyes still fixated on Emil. His silent stare feels almost hungry as he searches Emil's face.

Emil can barely contain the fluttering that threatens to break free from his rib cage walls. "Is this real?" he asks, voice shaking with uncertainty. He looks up into Lalli's eyes, searching them for answers.  "In that dream, was it really you? Do you... remember?"

Instead of answering with words, Lalli steps even closer. He clutches one hand in the fabric of Emil's tunic, and Emil remembers Tuuri's words of advice: _Hold tight and don't let go._

That's when Lalli surges forward and presses his lips to Emil's.

It's...

... _Awkward_. Their noses bump together, and Emil lets out a gasp of surprise, causing Lalli to let go of his grip on Emil's tunic, which sends him reeling, stumbling backwards until his back hits the rock wall behind them. The back of his head collides with the hard stone painfully.

Lalli, in that moment, looks mortified. He springs back like a scared animal, with a crimson blush that reaches all the way to his ears. He spins on his heel and hides his face away from Emil, who pushes himself up off the rock wall and takes a step towards Lalli.

"What..." Emil's mind is reeling. Wild emotion thrashes in his chest. "Lalli, what _was_ that?" 

"...I remember," Lalli murmurs in a voice that sounds hoarse from lack of use. He still won't meet Emil's eye. "All of it."

Relief, warm and soothing, floods over Emil. Despite the pain in the back of his head, he has a sense that there is nothing to be afraid of. Cautiously, he approaches Lalli and reaches out towards him again, grasping for the hand that rests by his side. 

"You could have just said that first, you know," he says, quietly, fondly, and gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Lalli still won't meet his eyes, but he squeezes Emil's hand in return.

"I— I like you," he stammers out.

Emil can't help but delight in the strange, unexpected irony of Lalli being the one flustered and uncomfortable. Of course he doesn't know what to say to Emil. He's just as lost and confused about all this as Emil is. Somehow, that fact puts his mind at ease. He rubs reassuring circles into the soft warm skin on Lalli's hand above his thumb.

"...Me, too," he says, voice low and with a hint of rasp.

Lalli turns and looks at him then. Blue sparks flicker within his eyes, but he stays frozen, as though still poised to flee.

"It's okay," Emil tells him, and reaches out for Lalli's other hand, pulls him back in without complaint. "Tuuri mentioned that you didn't— um, that you had never really— what I'm trying to say is, I haven't really got any experience doing this either. So it's all right."

Lalli looks at him, eyes searching Emil's face for a hint of deception, and when he sees none, he releases his grip on Emil's hand and brings his slender hands to cup Emil's face.

This time when he leans in for a kiss it's softer, more hesitant, a cautious brush of closed lips. He smells like smoke and pine trees and blood, and the coppery taste of it is on his lips, and it's kind of gross but at the same time it's the only thing Emil really wants, so he reciprocates in kind, leaning in and kissing him just like he had in the dream. The poetry book falls from his fingertips as he wraps one arm around Lalli's waist, pulling him close until their bodies are flush together.

Lalli responds immediately, making a pleased noise in the back of his throat, sliding his hand into Emil's hair.  Emil finds that he likes that sound, so he deepens the kiss, craving more contact, wanting to feel as much of him as possible. It's still rough, and a bit messy; neither of them is particularly good at this, but they more than make up for it in enthusiasm.

When he feels the scrape of Lalli's sharp canines on his lower lip, Emil pulls back for a second, a breathy laugh catching in his throat. "Ow! Watch the teeth," he teases good-naturedly.

Lalli flashes him an impatient glare, the blush coloring his face all the way to the tips of his ears. It's cute, Emil thinks, even with the dried blood all over his face, which has now certainly rubbed off on Emil too. 

Only an inch of distance separates them, their noses brushing together as Emil holds him in his arms. Bright, boundless joy shines within his chest, and he laughs quietly, in disbelief that there could be this much happiness in the world.

"I like you," Emil murmurs, giddy and delighted, looking into his moon-silver eyes.

"Hmmnn," Lalli makes a small sound, toying with strands of Emil's hair in the back of his head, not taking his eyes off him. This is a new experience for Emil altogether: being wanted, perhaps even needed in the same way that he has needed others in the past, and made all the more wonderful by the fact that it's _Lalli,_  the one person that has managed to change Emil's whole life just by existing.

They remain in one another's arms like this for a while, delighting in the proximity of each other as the sun dips low and the slanted light turns to gold. A chill wind heralds the oncoming night, and finally Emil pulls back from their entanglement with some regret.

"...Tuuri is probably wondering where we've gone off to."

"Nhh," Lalli protests, and leans in to try and kiss Emil again, but he gently places a hand against his chest and pushes him back a little.

"I mean it," Emil says. "She definitely saw you fly in. She's probably waiting on dinner."

"...Can wait longer," Lalli says, an edge of _want_ in his voice as he leans in towards Emil, which sends a thrill through him at the suggestion of exactly what he wants to do.

Emil laughs. "We've got more time to do this later, you know." He smooths a hand through Lalli's hair, and delights as he feels him lean into the touch. Then, reluctantly, he pulls back, and the space between them feels cold and momentarily unbearable. Emil wants nothing more than to reach out again; but propriety and his growing hunger are able to hold back his desire for now.

They're both thoroughly messy, with rumpled clothes, mussed hair and dried blood smears on both their clothes now, which gives Emil an idea: "Maybe if I ask Tuuri nicely, she'll let me use some of her soap to take a real bath. You look like you could use one, too."

"Mrrrrrrrh!" Lalli makes a displeased growl at the very idea of being forced to bathe. But then Emil reaches out for his hand, using his thumb to rub circles into the flat of Lalli's palm, saying without words: _I'll make it worth your while this time._

Hand in hand, the two make their journey back up to the peak of the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;) Told ya they'd figure it all out eventually.  
> Thanks for reading, and a very special thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos. You rule!  
> Next chapter in two weeks.
> 
> p.s. I'm not the only one getting emotionally destroyed by this current arc in SSSS, right? babies omg


	11. Omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as he is beginning to settle into his new life, Emil learns some troubling new information.

-*-*-*-

The days and weeks that follow are, by Emil's measure, among the happiest in his life since before the fire.

The chief reason for this is, naturally, Lalli, who has taken to... whatever this new thing is that they have between them with just as much intensity and passion as he does anything in his life. It's almost dizzying at times. Whenever he's in Lalli's presence it feels as though gravity tilts on its axis, drawing them together. He clings to Emil, their hands easily finding each other and fitting snugly, and he'll pull Emil aside during random moments to steal fierce, hot kisses that leave him red-faced and steaming.

Emil rather thinks they've gotten better at this whole kissing thing with practice, after the first couple mishaps where Lalli managed to draw blood. It's easy to forgive him when he's just so _earnest_ about it, and after all, Emil needs him just as badly.

_This_ isn't something his fancy education prepared him for.  Emil has never had a boyfriend before, or any sort of partner at all for that matter. Most of what he knew of that sort of thing came from the colorful tales of exploits told by some of the other soldiers in the barracks; he'd listened in embarrassed fascination as they described acts that verged on anatomically impossible. The kinds of relations they discussed _—_ in lurid detail  _—_ sounded nothing like what Emil and Lalli have together. Yes, there are physical urges, but the soldiers said nothing about the thoughts that populate his mind every waking hour and in his dreams, or the way that the delicate hairs on his arm stand on end whenever they brush skin to skin, or the thrill of catching a glimpse of one of his rare smiles in the low light. He smiles more often around Emil than ever before.

They don't do a great job of hiding it. After about the second or third day of sneaking off to make out at their new favorite spot by the cliffs, they return to find Tuuri awaiting them. She's wearing an exasperated yet fond smile, hands on her hips, and tells them that _really, there's only four people here, did they think she wouldn't notice?_ Emil is worried for a second that she will be upset with them; men kissing men isn't exactly something that the stories talk about, although it was a common punchline of jokes told by the soldiers at Keuruu. But he needn't have worried about that at all with Tuuri, as she merely ruffles Lalli's hair and asks them both to just, please, be quieter when they share a bed next time, there are others trying to sleep and the cave echoes.

But even though Lalli clings so tightly to him when they are together, there are times when Emil wakes up and finds the animal-fur bed beside him empty and cold. Lalli often takes dragon form and goes hunting, bringing back forage and game and freshly-caught fish from the river. Occasionally he returns with other prizes: old cracked pottery, knit scarves and warm clothing, and an ever-growing collection of books. These he hands to Emil, expressionless except for the blush that colors his ears. Emil doesn't know what to do with all of these presents, but he holds on to most of them, although he passes the books written in _suomi_ on to Tuuri, since he won't be learning to read that language any time soon.

It's when Lalli returns with a small, shining silver locket dangling from between his teeth that Onni scolds him for being reckless.

[[What were you thinking?!]] the gray dragon demands, his eyes flaring orange. [[You don't realize how much you are putting at risk, going near human settlements. What if you were seen? You could have gotten yourself killed!]]

Lalli, in his dragon form, glares back at Onni, a defiant light shining in his blue eyes.

[[ NO ONE SAW ME. ]]

[[That doesn't matter,]] Onni tells him, raising his injured wings outwards from his body. His muzzle curls, revealing sharp teeth in a scowling snarl. [[We are the last dragons of Suomi! You would put the survival of our people at stake?]]

This mollifies him somewhat. He lowers his head. [[ ...NO. ]]

[[Then act like it,]] Onni tells him. [[Suomi _needs_ us. Without dragons, darkness will consume the land. There are things more important than _—_ ]] he casts a searing glance in Emil's direction. [[Impressing your _bedmate_.]]

Emil tries to back himself further into the corner of the cave. He knows that Onni only puts up with him staying in the cave with them thanks to the insistence of Lalli and Tuuri; the last thing he wants is another reason for the gray dragon to resent him.

[[ ...WILL BE MORE CAREFUL, ]] Lalli says, before he turns away and stalks out of the cave, head hung low.

As he leaves, Onni watches him with a look of stern disapproval, and angrily snorts burning hot embers before retreating to the back of the cave.

Emil runs outside after Lalli, onto the plateau, just in time to see the dragon spread his silver wings and take off into the sky. The wind from his wingbeats whips Emil's hair across his face as he shields his eyes from the sun, watching the diminishing speck of Lalli's winged form as he disappears into the distance.

He watches Lalli go, and wonders if there was anything he could have said or done to make things right. _Probably not_ , he tells himself.

Still, he keeps the silver locket, and wears it underneath its tunic. Its gentle pressure against his chest reminds him of Lalli when he is gone away.

During the long stretches of hours while Lalli is out, Emil is determined to make himself useful and return the favor to Onni and Tuuri for allowing him to stay in the cave with them. So he helps Tuuri with her daily chores: retrieving firewood, fetching water from the spring, cooking meals, and sorting through the various piles of junk that line the cave in search of anything useful or interesting. Compared to the labors he used to do at Keuruu, these chores are much more laid-back, even relaxing. Periodically Tuuri will pick up a book and stop whatever she's doing it to read it with fascination, making little notes in a small hide-bound journal she carries around with her.

It's during one of these study breaks that Emil pulls Tuuri aside.

"Hey, Tuuri. I have a question..."

"Yes?" She looks up from the weathered scroll she's poring over. "What is it?"

"It's Onni," Emil says. "He keeps saying that Suomi is going to be 'consumed by darkness.' What does that mean? Is he really serious about all that?"

Tuuri freezes. Her face shows an uncharacteristically grave look.

"...He is serious," she says. "There's this old legend... I think it's long past time you knew about it."

Tuuri's expression and peculiar intensity triggers a rush of fear within Emil's chest.

"What do you mean?"

Instead of answering right away, Tuuri reaches for a scroll that rests beside her, weighted down by a rock to prevent it from blowing away in the wind. She unrolls the parchment, smoothing it out across the flat surface.

"See for yourself."

When Emil looks at what's on the scroll, his eyes go wide. Etched on the yellowed parchment in lurid swirls of black ink and red pigment are images of dark creatures _—_ beasts, trolls, and giants _—_ as grotesque in their depiction here as they are in real life. The artist certainly must have had personal encounters with them. Opposite the dark creatures is a dragon, breathing a plume of colorful dragonfire at the monsters. At the end of the scroll is an image of a massive, empty-eyed giant, pictured grasping its clawed hands towards the moon in the sky, coloring it a deep blood red.

Tuuri traces a finger down the runes on the side of the illustrations. "The legend says that the dark creatures are all descended from the Black Giant, which is the natural enemy of the Silver Dragon. Just like how her blood created the first dragons, when the Black Giant died, its blood seeped into the land as well. That's what's causing dark creatures to emerge from the earth to this day. In the past, it was the role of dragons to protect the people of Suomi from them. Without dragons to keep them in check, they will multiply in number until they cover the land and wipe out all other life. This scroll calls it the Rash of Death. _That's_ what Onni means when he says this land is dying."

Emil thinks of all the times he has clashed with trolls and beasts in the past. "...But, that doesn't make sense. They can be killed. _I've_ killed them. All you need is steel and fire."

Tuuri shakes her head. "That won't work forever. These dark creatures are animated by twisted, evil magic. They will regenerate if killed through non-magical means. Only dragonfire can burn them out permanently."

"So, the Army..." A look of pure horror dawns on Emil's face. "You're saying the Scanian Army is useless against these things?"

"According to the legend, yes," Tuuri says. "No matter how many dark creatures they strike down, more will come in their place."

"But that's terrible! Someone should warn them!" Emil says, thinking of the devastating attack of the dark creatures on Keuruu. If it were to get much worse, then there would be no military force in the world strong enough to combat the creatures.

"I doubt they'd listen to us," Tuuri says. "The Army doesn't care one bit about any myths or legends. I can't imagine them changing their ways until it's too late."

"Then what are we supposed to do?!"

"Survive," Tuuri says, and Emil is reminded of Lalli saying the same exact thing, when it was just the two of them against the seemingly endless forces of darkness, on the night Emil thought he had lost him forever. "As far as we know, Onni and Lalli may very well be the last dragons of Suomi. They need to stay alive, no matter what happens. It's up to us to protect them."

"...Right," Emil says, still a bit sick with this new knowledge.

Tuuri rolls up the scroll of parchment. When she looks back towards Emil, her serious expression is gone, and she's wearing her warm smile again. "Well! I'd say that's more than enough doom and gloom for now, wouldn't you think?" She gives Emil's shoulder a reassuring pat. "There, there.  We're safe here, and there's no indication when this whole... Rash thing will happen any time soon, anyway. For all we know, it could be years, maybe even decades from now."

"Are you certain it's okay?"

She nods. "I'm sure. Don't let Onni's constant fretting get to you, Emil. He's just grumpy from being cooped up in the cave for so long while his wings heal. If it wasn't the Rash, he'd just find something else to worry about."

Somehow, Tuuri's words do little to reassure Emil, but he decides to lock up those foreboding feelings for now.

"...I hope you're right."

Later, Onni leaves the cave for the first time since his injury from the fight with Emil and Lalli. He spreads his wings out to the open air, twitching them gingerly as the brisk wind plays across the tender spots that have only recently healed. With Tuuri at his side, he treads nervous circles around the perimeter of the rocky plateau; if he were in human shape, Emil would describe his behavior as pacing. Seeing such a dangerous and powerful creature wearing an expression of worry is peculiar to Emil. It seems even a fire-breathing dragon has things to fear.

A few hours later, Lalli returns from his self-imposed exile, carrying freshly-hunted meat for their dinner. Thanks to his company, Emil is able to banish the dark thoughts, for a short while at least.

That night, Emil lies on his side in the bed of furs, his nose inches from the short soft hairs on the back of Lalli's neck, and finds himself unable to sleep.

Tuuri's words from before echo inside of his mind: _Protect Lalli_. Emil feels a thrumming in his chest. Those words have rekindled the signal fire within him. His life, for so long defined by his quest to slay the dragon, has a new purpose now. He may not have magic, or the ability to take dragon shape; he may have regrets and flaws that follow him wherever he goes, but if he can just stand by him  _—_ dedicate his life to him, if he must _—_ then maybe, just maybe, he can be redeemed.

He must have shifted the covers in his sleepless thoughts, because Lalli stirs at his side, turning his body to face towards Emil. The thin moonlight that shines in through the entrance of the dark cave reflects across his silver eyes. He looks up at Emil, his gaze imploring. Then, he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat and tucks his head into the warm area beneath Emil's chin.

Emil wraps his arms around him and closes his eyes. He times his breathing with the rise and fall of Lalli's chest. Breathe in... breathe out. Breathe in... out. _Breathe in..._

-*-*-*-

_He's flying above the clouds, gliding smoothly in between towering thunderheads as the infinite field of stars stretches across the night sky overhead. The turbulent air buffets the underside of his wings, and the waning light of the moon shines its liquid highlights across the fur on his flank. It's loud up here, although the soft fur on his ears helps muffle the harsh rush of the wind. The rocky spires of the mountain range poke up between the clouds that span across the horizon. Below his feet, dark forest covers the land._

_A dim, unnatural glow stains the misty grey shapes of the clouds from underneath. He tucks his wings close to his body and drops down to take a closer look. As he passes through a gap between the clouds and comes into view of the light source, he pulls up from his descent abruptly when he sees it._

_A flickering line of orange light stretches along the edge of the dark woods. That light is spreading, growing, eating slowly inwards towards the heart of the forest. Wispy tendrils of smoke rise up from the land, filling the sky with a choking haze._

_The forest is ablaze, he realizes with growing dread._

_Out on the surface of the lake, the dark shapes of multiple Army battleships crowd the shores of Keuruu. The once-wrecked military outpost now is home to a sprawling tent city, which overflows the boundaries of the ruined base and expands into the cleared land that surrounds it. There appears to be an entire battalion stationed there, with hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers dwelling within. Even this late at night, the waving points of torchlight indicate activity in the military camp._

_Machines of war are lined up along the edge of the forest: large, metallic siege weapons on wheels, ballistas and catapults, even bladed battering rams. These are being used to hurl flaming clusters of oil-soaked rags into the forest, creating an explosive bloom of fire wherever they strike, which rapidly kindles the branches of the trees. Soldiers wielding axes and torches follow behind, making sure to fell any trees that remain standing. The burn spreads, accelerating its advance across the land._

_From the forest below he hears a terrified squealing and screeching. Through the trees, a herd of reindeer flee from the impending wall of fire, braying loudly as they barrel through the undergrowth. Birds take flight from the trees. The forest itself seems to keen in pain and agony as the army burns it down to its very roots._

_As he observes the devastation of the forest fire, time itself appears to speed up. Night flashes into day which fades to night again, but the fire never stops. It marches forth, burning faster and brighter and more every day, leaving behind an ashen wasteland. The army camp follows the line of fire, blackening the land as they go, continuing across the basin and up the valley, into the foothills of the mountains, heading towards the tallest peak._

_Only dead, ashen fields remain in the wake of the Army's onslaught. Heavy rain clouds sweep in, pouring their sorrow onto the land, soaking the ash fields and turning them into poisonous sludge. Soldiers' footprints leave muddy divots in the earth that once teemed with life._

_Underneath the dead soil, a malevolent presence grows. Gnarled limbs, tipped with brutal claws, force their way up and outwards as the dark shape of a troll heaves itself out of the muck. It snarls, baring its uncountably sharp teeth in the hissing rain. It is joined by more abominations, hundreds upon hundreds of them. They snarl and drool like rabid beasts that have scented prey as they descend upon the Scanian military camp._

_As the screams of the soldiers fill the air, the ground below is wracked with an earth-shattering quake as a chasm splits the ground. A pitch-black hand with fingers the size of full-grown trees forces itself upwards, followed by an eyeless skull as large as a small hill, and a torso as tall as a mountain. As the Black Giant pulls itself from the earth, it gazes skyward, its empty eye sockets like pools of oblivion._

_The hand reaches up in the sky towards where he flies through the air, black fingers outstretched, and he has to weave and dodges in the air in order to avoid its grasp. Then the arm reaches higher upwards, past him, until it has the very moon itself between its fingers._

_The Black Giant plucks the moon from the sky, and in that instant, the magic disappears. He feels its absence like the snuffing of a match. Without magic to hold him together, his dragon shape begins to disintegrate. His wings peel apart into ashy fragments, like scraps of pages of a burned book. Without wings, he goes hurtling downwards towards the earth, helpless and out of control, spiraling towards the mass of dark creatures baring their eternally ravenous teeth, and as he's about to impact the ground_ Emil sits bolt upright in bed with a gasp, lungs heaving, his heart pounding in his chest.

He looks around frantically at the interior of the cave, and locks eyes with Lalli, who is also seated upright, wearing a similar wild-eyed expression, his eyes glowing blue a little.

There is the sound of claws scraping on stone, and Emil turns to look at Onni. The gray dragon has roused himself, and is standing up on all fours with wings extended, his massive form filling the cave. His cinder-orange eyes are blazing with bright light.

At Onni's side, the small fuzzy lump of Tuuri shifts and blearily rubs at her eyes. "Whuzzuh... Onni, why'd you get up?" She blinks at Emil and Lalli. "You two, too? Whass goin' on?"

"Did we _—_ did we all just have the same dream?!" Emil gasps.

[[Not a dream,]] Onni rumbles. [[An omen of things to come.]]

Tuuri looks between the three of them. "I'm still confused. What's happened? Some sort of... dream vision?"

"A forest fire," Lalli says. His eyes flick to Emil's.

Emil can't keep his hands from shaking. He places them on either side of his head. The images of the dream are still burned into his mind: the Army, their weapons of war, the burning forest.

"That wasn't just any fire," he says. "That was a Cleansing."

[[You knew about this?!]]

Emil nods feebly. He still remembers it well: the battle formations, the set of instructions they gave him when they trained him, what feels like a lifetime ago. "It's the same way the King's Army conquered Norge and Ísland. They burn out the land so that nothing remains -- no monsters, no natives, nothing. It's total war."

[[Then we are doomed. The Scanian Army has already sent a battalion to Keuruu. It has begun. The Rash of Death – the end of Suomi is upon us.]]

Silence echoes through the cave for a prolonged moment.

"…Not yet," Lalli says. "I saw no fire today."

[[You witnessed that omen as clearly as I,]] Onni says. [[These events will surely come to pass if we do nothing. The Scanian Army will set fire to the forest. The burning of the forest will bring forth the legions of darkness. The Black Giant will return, and finally succeed in destroying the Silver Dragon's creation.]]

"That's terrible!" gasps Tuuri. "There must be something we can do to stop it!"

Onni fixes her with his gaze. [[You will _not_ ,]] he growls, [[Try anything reckless. None of you are to leave the safety of this mountain peak. Understood?]] He ruffles his wings. [[It will not take long for me to fly to Keuruu and back. I will survey the damage the Army has wrought, and from there decide our best course of action to prevent the spread of darkness.]]

"Onni, no!" Tuuri protests. "Like you said today: it's too dangerous. What if they see you? Besides, your wing's not fully healed yet!"

[[My wing is more than ready for the journey,]] he says. [[And risking my well-being is a small price for the sake of Suomi. If the battalion is already there, it may already be too late. But we need to know how much time Suomi has left, if we are to survive this attack.]]

Emil casts a glance towards Lalli. He is glaring towards Onni, disgruntled, and mutters something under his breath in forest-language.

Onni rounds on Lalli now, lips curled back in an angry snarl. [[This is not the same as your reckless thievery. The very fate of our nation is at stake! Clearly, _you_ lack the judgment to tell the difference.]]

Lalli stands up suddenly. A blast of magical wind swirls around him, buffeting Emil's hair across his face. He holds his arms out, standing between Onni and the entrance of the cave.

"No!" he shouts, eyes glowing blue. "Let me go."

Fear seizes inside Emil's chest. The idea of losing Lalli again fills him with a deep despair.

[[Stand aside, Lalli,]] commands Onni, his orange eyes narrowed. [[You do not know what you risk. Should I not return, it is up to you to protect Suomi.]]

"W—wait!" interjects Emil. He gets to his feet as well and wraps one hand around Lalli's wrist. Then he looks back towards Onni. "Both of you are too important. That's what the legend says, isn't it? Only dragonfire can destroy the darkness."

Tuuri fixes him with a curious look, as does Lalli, mingled surprise and dismay in his glowing blue eyes. Emil looks to both of them and nods. _This is his purpose._ He takes a deep shuddering breath.

"…It should be me," he says. "Neither of you need to risk your lives for this. I'll go."

"Emil…!" Lalli gives him a look of horror.

At Lalli's expression, his stomach gives a lurch of deep sympathy. But Emil is resolute. "I'm sorry," he says. "But it's the truth. Suomi needs all the dragons she has left. I'm the only one here that's expendable."

Lalli moves, swift as an eyeblink, and seizes Emil by his shirt lapels. "You are _not_ ," he growls.

"You guys—" Tuuri begins to say, but is interrupted by Onni.

[[It seems we are at an impasse,]] he says. Then, to Emil's surprise, he lowers himself down to the ground once again, crossing one furred, clawed paw over the other. [[Perhaps I was too hasty. It would not be wise to put ourselves in danger without first considering our options.]] He turns his head to look out towards the cave entrance, which shows a hint of pink sunrise against the darkness of the night sky. [[Besides, it is far too early for such a decision to be made on so few hours of rest.]]

Onni's response is so uncharacteristic of him that Emil just stares at him, open-mouthed. When he remembers his words again, he splutters, "But—but Suomi—"

[[Suomi will remain for a few hours longer,]] Onni says. [[As Lalli has said, the forest has not yet begun to burn. We saw that it will take many suns and moons more before the Army can perform its… Cleansing.]] He casts his gaze towards Emil. [[Before that occurs, we will have time to develop our strategy to try and put a stop to this.]]

At Emil's side, Lalli grabs his hand and laces their fingers together, squeezing tightly. Emil squeezes his hand back in response.

"So you want us to just… sleep on it?" Tuuri asks, equally bewildered.

[[Yes,]] Onni says. He lowers his head atop his folded paws. [[Sleep, and we shall come to a decision when the sun reaches its peak in the sky tomorrow.]]

Lalli lets out a wide yawn, baring sharp teeth, and tugs on Emil's hand, indicating that he should join him in their shared bed. After some feeble resistance, Emil acquiesces; after that disturbing dream, he doesn't know how he can return to peaceful slumber. But here, wrapped in soft things that smell like Lalli, he finds it easier and easier to drift off.

 It's as he's on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness that he remembers the part of the dream that didn't involve fire, death or destruction. In that dream, Emil was a _dragon_ , for a moment, flying effortlessly through the sky on silver wings.

Thoughts of flight fill his mind as he drifts off to sleep once again.

-*-*-*-

The next thing that rouses Emil is Tuuri's voice, shouting.

"Onni! _ONNNIIIIII!!_ "

He stirs, emerging out of a particularly deep and restful slumber. By his side, Lalli also shifts and awakens, peering up at him through sleep-heavy eyes.

As he looks around the cave, he realizes it is unusually spacious: the corner where Onni sleeps is empty. The sound of Tuuri calling Onni's name echoes in from outside. Emil gets to his feet, pushing the furs aside, and walks out into the bright sunlight. Lalli follows behind.

Out on the plateau he finds Tuuri, on her feet and pacing back and forth across the gravel. She wears an expression of deep worry across her face.

"I can't believe he would _do_ something like this!"

Tuuri is almost never this angry, so something must have gone very wrong to make her upset. Emil squints at her in the bright light of day, trying to figure out what has her all riled up. As he looks across the plateau, he notices something else.

Onni isn't out here, either. The wind plays across the empty plateau. The massive, maned dragon is nowhere in sight.

"Stupid, stupid idiot brother! He _tricked_ me! He tricked all of us," Tuuri says, voice cracking with emotion. "I'm willing to bet he cast the spell to make us all fall asleep, too!"

"What the—slow down, Tuuri," Emil tells her. "What are you talking about? Where's Onni?"

Tuuri rounds on them. There are tears brimming in her eyes, and her face is red.

"Onni left," she tells them. "He was never planning on having a discussion with us at all. While we were all asleep, he flew off for Keuruu on his own."

"What? But that's—" Emil stares at her, open-mouthed. "He was the one saying how dangerous it is. Why would he take that risk?"

Tuuri's face falls, her look of anger transforming into a somber look of resignation. "He's always been scared to lose somebody close to him. I suppose he prefers risking his own life to endangering anyone else's."

Something brushes Emil's side, as Lalli moves past him, out into the open plateau. Before Emil can even register what is going on, his body is surrounded with glittering light, and in a flash Lalli is in dragon form, wings outstretched, blue eyes trained to the sky with a determined look on his face. He flaps once, sending a blast of wind across the mountaintop.

[[ GOING TO BRING HIM BACK. ]]

"Lalli, no!" shouts Tuuri. As the dragon bunches his legs beneath him in preparation for takeoff, she falls across his front paws, keeping him grounded. "You can't just leave! What about the prophecy?"

Emil, too, runs up to the dragon's side. Without thinking, he throws his arms around the base of Lalli's long neck, holding on as tight as he can.

"She's right," he says into Lalli's soft fur. "Please don't leave. I can't— we can't afford to lose you, too."

Lalli cranes his neck around to look at Emil and Tuuri. Slowly, he relaxes his outstretched wings until they are folded across his back. He closes his eyes and his outline shimmers again, and then Emil and Tuuri have their arms wrapped around the skinny frame of his human form. He slouches, all of his initiative draining out from his body.

"...'m sorry," he murmurs quietly into Tuuri's fluffy hair.

"It's okay," Tuuri responds. "I know you just wanted to bring Onni back to us. But let's not make things worse just because _he_ made a mistake." She lowers her face and rests her forehead against his chest. "Stupid Onni," she sniffles against Lalli's tunic.

Emil looks up at the blue sky overhead. "What do we do now?"

"There's nothing we can do," murmurs Tuuri. "We just have to wait... and hope he returns safely."

"And... what happens if Onni doesn't come back?"

 Lalli meets Emil's eyes and then looks out over the horizon, in the direction of Keuruu. He nods.

"We go," he says. "Together."

Tuuri, from where she is curled against his chest, looks up at him in wide-eyed surprise. "...Are you sure?"

Lalli nods. "We go, and bring Onni back," he says, a determined flash in his eyes.

Emil follows his gaze. Out on the horizon, he sees white shapes that might be clouds, or what might be smoke from a fire. Anxiety and apprehension twist together in the pit of his stomach.

_The dream. The omen. The Rash. The Black Giant. And now Onni's disappearance._  

How far will Emil need to go to protect the people he loves?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a breather chapter, Plot is back with a vengeance. Looks like our heroes are going to need to work a bit harder to get their happily ever after.
> 
> Thanks for all your comments and kudos!


	12. Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange dream, a mysterious figure and a cry for help sends Emil, Lalli and Tuuri on a new mission with impossibly high stakes.

_ Emil stands ankle-deep in glassy black water of an unknown lake. Mist dances across the water's surface and grey clouds obscure the sky, reducing his visible area to just a few paces away. He wraps his arms around himself and shivers in the damp cold. There's something ominous about this place, a presence that creeps beneath the water and the ever-present chill that worms its way inside of Emil's cloak and tunic. Although the water he stands in is shallow, he cannot see the shore from where he stands or know the depth of the lake that surrounds him. He is struck with the impression that if he takes a step in any direction, he could easily plunge in over his head. _

_ Something is casting ripples out across the water's surface. He looks in the direction of their source and feels a warmth rise in his chest as a humanoid figure emerges from the fog. It's Lalli, wrapped in his dragon-fur cloak. Unlike Emil, who stands with feet submerged, Lalli's footsteps only skim the dark water, a thin film of magic underneath the soles of his feet keeping him suspended above its surface. _

_ As Lalli joins him by his side, Emil smiles in relief. "I'm glad you're here. This is a dream, right?" _

_ Lalli nods. He reaches out and takes Emil's hand. _

_ "Follow me," he says. "I think there's something on the other side." _

_ The two set off across the black lake. Emil must take care to tread only where the ripples from Lalli's footprints remain; his first misstep nearly sends him plunging into the black depths before Lalli manages to pull him back up. _

_ "Where are we going?" Emil asks. _

_ "…I don't know yet," Lalli says. "Thought I heard a voice." _

_ After a few more minutes of walking, Emil hears it too. A bit further, and it doesn't sound like speech, exactly, but more like – singing. A man's voice, singing a slow and mournful song. _

_ As they approach the source of the singing, the jagged dark shapes of flooded trees begin to emerge out of the fog. These grow more numerous, and are joined by marshy grasses and cattails, until they are walking through a forest of tall, thick, leafless tree trunks that impossibly emerge out of the lake water. _

_ Emil can't shake the feeling of being watched. The thick fog and dark water obscure his own sight, but that doesn't mean that something isn't looking in from outside. This feeling of trepidation only rises as he follows Lalli's footsteps towards the source of the singing. _

_ They wind around the trunks of trees until they reach a clearing in the flooded forest. At the center of the clearing is a large boulder that juts out from below the water's surface. _

_ Seated atop the boulder is a man whose face Emil doesn't recognize. His long, shaggy gray hair, square chin and sad eyes seem somehow familiar, though. He has some sort of string instrument that is laid across his lap, and he is plucking at its strings while singing a mournful song. _

_ He stops playing as Lalli and Emil enter the clearing, and looks up, an expression of alarm on his face. _

_ "…You two…!" _

_ "Onni?" Lalli asks, and now that Lalli mentions it, Emil can totally see the resemblance: the shaggy hair, the same worried expression on the man's face that was worn by the gray dragon. _

_ Onni sets his kantele aside. "Shh!! You need to be quiet. He'll hear you." _

_ "Who will?" Emil asks. "Onni, what is this place? Where are you?" _

_ "The frost hunter," Onni says. "This is his domain. If you don't leave soon, he'll trap you in here, too." _

_ "What are you saying?! What in the gods' name is a frost hunter?!" _

_ Onni looks resigned. "He is the Army's tool and weapon. They brought him here to hunt us. Against him, we are powerless." _

_ "That's not— there must be something we can do—" Emil starts to say, but then Lalli places a hand against his chest and points with his other arm. _

_ On the edge of the clearing, the surface of the water begins to crystallize and turn white. Radial patterns of ice crystals creep out across the lake and up the sides of the trees, creating a spiky shroud of ice shards that coats the bark of the tree like fur. The creeping ice reaches the edge of the rock where Onni is seated, and then crawls upward, coating his kantele and the tips of his boots with frost, before spreading up his body as he remains seated, staring out at Emil and Lalli. _

_ "It's too late for me," Onni says. "He has me in his grasp, and he's definitely heard us now. You should run, while you still can." _

_ "Onni, please—" protests Lalli, but the man does not respond as the ice crystals coat his legs, his arms, crawling up his chest towards his face. _

_ The frost now changes its direction, advancing towards them like it has a mind of its own. Lalli positions himself in front of Emil, shouts an incantation and a wave of blue magical fire emerges from his hands and streaks towards the ice. The magic collides in a blinding explosion of bright light and glittering shards. But when the light clears and fades away, the frost remains, continuing its creeping advance towards where Lalli and Emil stand. _

_ Now they have no choice but to heed Onni's advice. Lalli seizes hold of Emil's hand and pulls him along as they flee from the advancing ice. As they run, Emil leaping from ripple to ripple and trying not to fall into the water's black depths, the white frost follows faster and faster. The fog around them swirls as though kicked up by a sudden wind, and in its cloudy depths Emil thinks he can make out a massive shape, its form indistinct, shrouded in shadow and fog but for its narrowed eyes, which are glowing an emerald green. It – or rather, _ he  _ – watches Emil and Lalli from beyond the white walls of fog. _

_ The ice swirls around them, faster than they can run, until it has them surrounded and is closing in from all sides. Lalli slows his run to a stop, panting to catch his breath. He exchanges a look with Emil, and nods. There's only one way out. _

_ Emil takes a deep breath, steps forward and plunges beneath the water's surface. _

-*-*-*-

They wake up.

Emil turns over in bed, catches Lalli's gaze. They lock eyes, mutual understanding passing between them without the need to speak a word.

He does, anyway. "Onni's in trouble."

Lalli nods in assent, and then sits up, pushing aside the blankets that cover them both. "Then we go to him."

"Yes, but–" Emil hesitates. "What  _ was _ that? The... frost hunter. The thing keeping Onni trapped in there. You saw it, too."

Lalli looks pensive for a moment, then shakes his head. "Don't know," he says. "Doesn't matter. Onni needs us."

"...Right, right," Emil says, though he can't shake the anxiety that quakes in his gut. When he closes his eyes, he can still picture in his mind's eye that ominous silhouette watching them through the fog with emerald eyes. There was something about the hopeless, despondent look in Onni's eye as the frost crept upwards to cover his body, something that made Emil feel like they were about to be in over their heads.

They wake Tuuri. She snaps to alertness in an instant as soon as they tell her about the sign from Onni. She gets up, and busies herself making them tea as Emil relays to her the details of the dream. Lalli, meanwhile, restlessly crosses from one end of the cave to the other, collecting supplies and gear for their journey.

When Emil mentions seeing Onni in his human shape, Tuuri gives a gasp of surprise.

"You saw him as a human? Really?" Her eyes are shining.

Emil nods. "Yeah. I didn't realize it was him at first, but Lalli recognized him right away."

Tuuri practically vibrates with excitement. "If he's managed to change his shape, then I wonder if he found his Focus somehow?"

"...Maybe," Emil says with a shrug. He doesn't understand much of this dragonlore that Tuuri talks about, but her excitement is a nice reprieve from the dread that drags at his chest. "He didn't really seem... lucid. I mean, he was being even more cryptic than usual."

"That sounds like Onni all right," she says, still smiling over her teacup.

"The way he spoke, it made it sound like he was trapped." Emil shivers despite the warm cup of tea in his hands. "The thing that was keeping him there, he called it a frost hunter. Have you read about that in any of your books?"

Tuuri looks pensive. "...I can't say I have. Maybe it's a myth that Onni learned about from Ensi, but he didn't mention anything of the sort to me."

"Oh," Emil says, crestfallen. Tuuri was the smartest person he knew; he'd hoped she might be able to explain it.

"Based on what you're describing, though, it sounds like we might be dealing with another magic user."

_ That's _ something new. "What makes you say that?"

"Well..." Tuuri scratches her head. "You know, the dream world is a place of magical beings... and you, for some reason," she says, pointing at Emil, who tries not to take it personally. "Song and music is a common method of performing spells and incantations. It sounds as though Onni was trying to reach out to you deliberately. But this frost hunter, whatever it is, was guarding him in the dream world. And it was able to counteract the spell. That's something that requires at least a basic understanding of magic."

"Onni said the frost hunter was the Army's weapon. He told us he couldn't do anything against it."

"The army? Oh, dear. That's definitely not good." A worried crease furrows her brow.

Emil thinks of Sigrun and her skepticism towards the forest-people's beliefs. "I didn't think the Army believed in magic."

"Oh, most soldiers don't," Tuuri says. "Even the squadron leaders and captains mostly don't. But the upper brass, the ones giving the orders... they just might," Tuuri says. "How else would they have known about the secret of dragon-blood? There are– or  _ were _ – magic-users in Norge and ĺsland, too. I can't imagine the Army would turn its back on a potential weapon of any kind. Even though such a thing goes against the teachings of all magical arts..."

Emil remembers the shifting shadow in the mist, the burning green eyes. "Whatever that thing was, it didn't look human. It was  _ huge _ ."

"Hmm. Perhaps it was a shape-shifter." Tuuri sips at her tea. "You know, the most skilled mages can change their shape."

"Are you sure you're not a mage, Tuuri?" Emil asks her. "I bet you'd make a really good one."

Tuuri laughs at that. "Oh, hahaha, no, I wouldn't be. I'm always over-analyzing things; magic isn't something you can think too much about. Truly great mages rely on their instincts, and I could never trust my instincts the way Lalli does. That's what makes him such a powerful mage, you know."

Emil casts a glance towards Lalli in the back of the cave, who is stuffing clothes and other supplies into a pack with a look of single-minded determination in his eyes. A warm, soft feeling fills Emil's chest at the sight of him.

"...Yeah. He's... really special."

Tuuri smiles. "His strong instincts are a big part of it. That, and..." She gives Emil a knowing look from head to toe. "...The fact that he has something he needs to protect, I think."

"What? M-me?!" he splutters.

She giggles again. "Yes, of course you! Lalli has always been good at surviving, and being a scout, but his magic used to be rough, and using it tired him out a lot. You remember," Tuuri says.

Emil does remember. He recalls that first fateful battle against the troll, when Lalli released a burst of magical energy to stun the monster and save Emil's life. Afterwards, he'd fainted, leaving Emil to carry his unconscious form all the way back to base. 

"Ever since he met you..." Her eyes are lit up with excitement. "His magic has become so much more than that. You've seen it, haven't you? How effortlessly he changes between dragon and human form? Onni has noticed it as well. He's even said that Lalli might be the most powerful mage in all Suomi."

"Really..."

She looks thoughtful. "You know, your involvement in all this, it's given me ideas for my research into what a Focus could be. I think it's–"

"Tuuri!" interrupts Lalli from the other side of the cave. "We are leaving!"

Tuuri straightens up. She puts her hands on her hips. "Not without me, you're not!"

Emil sighs, and places his index finger and thumb on the bridge of his nose. "Tuuri..."

"What? You're going to tell me it's too dangerous? You want to say I can't fight, so I should stay behind?" She crosses her arms.

"It's... not just that..." Emil trails off, because Tuuri had already addressed his two main points. "...I don't think Onni would forgive us if we let you get hurt by taking you with us."

"Pardon my language, but that's a load of dragon-dung. We need all of us if we're going to rescue Onni." She reaches for her own personal backpack, swings it over her shoulder, pockets her notebook with all her skald's notes on dragonlore. "Not every fight is won with swords and dragonfire, you know. Sometimes all it takes is a little persuasion. And I'm good at being very persuasive, when I want to be."

"Hmph." Lalli shrugs. "Fine. Come then."

"What– that's it? Just like that?" Emil exclaims, looking between the two of them. Lalli nods; Tuuri smiles her innocent smile. Emil slumps his shoulders, knowing a losing argument when he sees one. "...Well, all right."

"I can carry you both," Lalli says. He looks over at Emil. "Meet me outside."

As Lalli leaves the cave, and Tuuri follows, Emil scrambles to get everything he could possibly need for a dangerous, possibly-suicidal mission with the fate of Suomi and his friends' lives at stake. He tries not to think about the consequences of messing up as he dons his leather armor (repaired, thanks to Tuuri) and places some reindeer jerky, dried fruit and bread inside of his pack along with a filled waterskin.

As he's almost finished putting everything away, his eyes catch something that glistens in the slanted light that beams in from the cave entrance: his sword.

Emil approaches and picks up the sheathed blade. This was the sword that was meant to take a dragon's life; now, with any luck, Emil would use it to save one. He feels its weight against his arm, its finely-tuned balance, its steel honed sharp. He'll be turning this weapon against the very people that forged it. He slides the scabbard into his belt where it fits snugly. After spending so many weeks without touching it, the weight strangely feels familiar, like an empty space that's now filled.

He's as ready as he'll ever be. He turns his back on the cave and ventures outside into the light.

Out on the plateau, Lalli is standing there in his dragon form. His wings are outstretched, tasting the wind. Tuuri is securing their bags onto a harness on his back, hand-crafted using straps of dried and cured leather. Emil notes with a hint of relief that the harness includes hand-holds, too.

The prospect of flying makes him feel both nervous and excited. Ever since he dreamed of flying, he can't get it off his mind. But memories of the last time he rode on Lalli's back temper his enthusiasm.

"You're not gonna drop me this time, right?" Emil asks, a teasing lilt to his words.

Lalli narrows his eyes. [[ I WON'T DROP YOU. ]]

"It's just, the last time we did this, we crash-landed in the forest..."

[[ THAT WAS YOUR FAULT, ]] Lalli points out. [[ YOU WERE TRYING TO KILL ME. ]]

Emil's gut lurches uncomfortably. "...Oh. Um. Right. Sorry about that."

Lalli cranes his long neck towards Emil and nuzzles his furry face against Emil's chest. [[ IT'S OKAY. I FORGIVE YOU. ]]

A thrill rises in Emil's chest at Lalli's words, as he strokes the soft fur underneath the dragon's chin.  _ Forgiveness. What a crazy concept, that anybody could forgive Emil for what he's done. _ It's one of the reasons Emil can't believe his good fortune. It's why he's willing to sacrifice anything to protect Lalli's family. It seems like the least he can do, given the circumstances.

Tuuri clears her throat pointedly, and they reluctantly pull apart, Lalli's sapphire gaze lingering on Emil's for a moment longer before he looks up towards the sky. She pats the fur on Lalli's flank. "Do we have everything we need for the journey?"

"Um. I think so?" Emil says. "It's just a day's flight away, right?"

"Yes, if you're going in a straight line. We're going to be taking a more roundabout route though." Tuuri unrolls the parchment she's holding – a map, inked by hand – and points to a spot in the northeast, in the mountains. "This is our current location. Keuruu is to the southwest. Assuming they already have some intel on us, they'll be expecting an attack from this direction. That's why we'll fly along the far side of the mountain ridge, and approach from the south instead." She holds up the map in front of Lalli so he can see the flight path. "Think you can fly that distance?"

Lalli gives a dismissive snort. [[ OF COURSE I CAN. THAT MUCH IS NOTHING. ]]

"I believe it, but still, we can't be too careful." She rolls up her map. "If they managed to capture Onni, that means they might be expecting us, too. The element of surprise is going to be our greatest advantage. We'll approach by night, using cloud cover if possible."

Tuuri's strategy is sound, but Emil pictures the glowing green eyes of the frost hunter and feels queasy. "What are we going to do when we get there? How are we going to free Onni?"

Tuuri frowns. "I haven't got that far yet. We don't know where they're keeping Onni, if he's even at Keuruu. It's where he said he was heading, so that's where we'll go first. Still, we should try and keep a low profile, and avoid a fight unless it's absolutely necessary. Freeing Onni should be our highest priority. Once we do that, he can help us escape."

[[ HE NEEDS US, ]] says Lalli. He crouches down and lowers his wings to the earth. [[ CLIMB ON. ]]

Emil swallows. "O-okay," he says, and approaches the dragon. He gingerly climbs up the wing until he is knelt on Lalli's back. Warmth radiates up through the thick fur, and the red runes that run along his spine seem aglow with stored energy. Emil smooths his fingers through the soft silver fur. "Is this all right? Are you comfortable?"

Lalli arches his long neck around to look at Emil on his back. Instead of replying with mind-speech, he responds with a deep, rumbling purr in his chest, that Emil feels at all points of contact. His heart is racing in his throat. He trusts Lalli, has felt every curve of his body by now, but this – flying – is a new kind of thrill unknown to him before this point. It feels more exhilarating than almost anything else he and Lalli have done together.

Tuuri climbs on the dragon's back behind Emil, securing herself with the leather straps. Emil seizes hold of these as well and tightens them around his wrists. He begins counting down in his head.

_ Five... _ Lalli pushes himself back up to standing, and shakes his body, adjusting to the weight of his two passengers. The shudder courses through Emil; behind him, Tuuri gives a quiet gasp, indicating that she's more nervous about flying than she lets on.

_ Four... _ The dragon's wings flex, and he gives them an experimental flap. The whoosh of displaced wind buffets Emil's hair across his eyes.

_ Three... _ He begins pacing forwards towards the edge. Powerful muscles shift underneath his fur. Emil takes in a deep breath, braces himself.

_ Two... _ His walk transforms into a run, and then a sprint, gaining on the edge of the plateau faster and faster, as he begins pumping his wings to generate enough speed and lift to propel them airborne, and the tang of adrenaline floods Emil's senses as he looks out at the sheer drop beyond the cliff's edge.

_ One. _ Emil squeezes his eyes shut in the dizzying final second as Lalli's front paws clear the precipice and crest the edge of the cliff out into the empty air.

For a breathless moment they hang there, and then gravity kicks in and they begin dropping in altitude, plummeting down towards the treetops far below. Thundering wind slaps at Emil's face, and he keeps his eyes shut as he grips tightly to Lalli's back, pressing himself into his warm fur. Then, the dizzy feeling of falling fades away, replaced with a sensation of rising upwards, and Tuuri lets out a high-pitched shriek that sounds more excited than scared, so Emil tries opening his eyes again.

As soon as he does, he gasps in awe. From living on the mountain's peak, he's become used to seeing the valley spread wide beneath him, but not even that could compare to the scenery from a dragon's eye view. The landscape sprawled across the horizon looks like Tuuri's map made real. The terrain rushes beneath them at an unbelievable speed, and the lashing wind makes his eyes water and sends tracks of tears streaking across his face.

Tuuri lets out another thrilled  _ whoop! _ and Emil twists around to look back at her. She's wearing an expression of delight.

Emil can't keep the grin off his face, either. "This is  _ amazing _ !"

" _ What? _ " Tuuri yells back, her voice swallowed in the deafening flap of wings.

"I  _ said _ – oh, nevermind," he replies, realizing that trying to communicate over the noise of the wind is a lost cause.

[[ GOING HIGHER, ]] Lalli tells them both, before he banks a wide turn and begins to flaps his wings more vigorously, ascending towards the white fluffy clouds up above. The forces of the climb pull at Emil's body and he grips harder to the leather straps. It's hard to tell what is louder: the sound of the wind shuddering off the leather of Lalli's wings, or the rush of blood in his ears.

After a short while they are at the same level as the lowest-hanging clouds, and then continue to climb further upwards, until Lalli casts a dragon-shaped shadow onto the white wispy clouds underneath them. The open sky spreads above, its pinnacle a deep blue hue verging on indigo. The sun shines to the west, and its rays catch golden in the membranes of Lalli's wings. The dragon coasts through the air, gliding from peak to fluffy peak of every cloud, water vapor swirling and eddying in his wake.

Emil feels that he could almost reach out and touch the clouds, if he would dare to let go of the leather straps that are tethering him to Lalli's back. The rational, non-giddy part of his brain wins out in the end, reminding him that they are untold fathoms above the ground, that Lalli is carrying both of them and their gear, and that any sudden movements could send all of them plummeting to their deaths far below. That thought sobers him up enough that he clings even more tightly to the dragon's back.

Heat radiates from Lalli's furry body, for which Emil is grateful. It's cold enough up here that he feels the bite of the chill air in his lungs with every breath. His armor, too, shelters him from the elements, though not that well. His cloak stays tucked into one of the bags on the side; as Tuuri pointed out, she didn't want it whipping her in the face from the force of the wind.

Thinking of Tuuri, he casts a glance back towards her, and discovers to his surprise that she is  _ reading _ , flipping through her handwritten notebook contentedly, as though she were sprawled on her favorite sunny rock and not on the back of a dragon with naught but empty air beneath them. The wind tousles her fluffy mop of gray hair but fails to disturb her concentration. Emil regards her with wonder for a brief moment before returning his gaze to the view between the tips of the dragon's ears.

They glide like this for a while, in the relative quiet of the upper atmosphere. The soft, dry warmth and gently shifting muscles of Lalli's dragon form are soothing, if Emil lets himself forget for a moment where he is and where they are heading towards. But the foreboding omen they'd seen in the dream, and the danger that assuredly awaits them at their destination, reminds him that this is no simple joy ride.

Still, Emil thinks, he wouldn't be opposed to going flying with Lalli some other time in the future. Some time where it's just them, with no Onni to save nor world-eating Rash to stop.

They fly onwards, and the sun sinks lower in the sky, kissing the horizon in an outrageous display of pink, orange and gold. Down below, the mountains have reduced in size to foothills and the forest grows thick and dark. Emil finds himself scanning the horizon for a glowing line of fire that would indicate that the Army has begun their Cleansing. From their vantage point, no smoke is visible, although that does not fully put his fears to rest.

At a certain point Tuuri gives Lalli the signal and they change direction and head west, and then north. In the last light of the sunset, they see the glassy waters of lake Keuruu on the horizon. Dusk is setting in now, and there are low-hanging clouds that blanket the land far below. This is good, Emil thinks, because it will most likely let them approach the Keuruu camp stealthily, retaining the element of surprise.

As they draw nearer to their destination, and start to catch glimpses of the military base on the horizon, Emil's stomach drops like a stone. Out on the waters of the lake are several massive, dark shapes of battleships. Those definitely hadn't been there previously. Closer still, and he can start to make out dozens of tiny flickers of firelight in the base camp, indicating activity from many more troops than usual. Although the forest doesn't seem to be ablaze, everything else is how it appeared in the dream.

The battalion has landed at Keuruu. The rest of the omen, then, is sure to follow.

Emil shivers. Darkness sets in as the sun dips below the trees on the far distant shore of the lake. With the sunlight gone, the temperature feels like it drops significantly; he clings tightly to Lalli for warmth.

"We sh-should find a p-place to set down soon," says Tuuri, her teeth chattering.

"Yeah," agrees Emil, "S-somewhere they won't see us, where we c-can maybe b-build a fire and warm up–  _ Whoa!! _ "

Emil is suddenly flung to one side as Lalli banks a sharp turn in midair, flapping his wings furiously. If his wrists hadn't been entangled, he's certain he would have dropped out of the sky.

"Lalli! What  _ was _ that?! You nearly threw us off!"

[[ SOMETHING'S HERE, ]] Lalli replies, and now Emil feels a cold, foreboding feeling grip inside his chest as well. 

"Here? In the sky? That's not possible," says Tuuri. "The only thing that could chase a dragon in midair–"

The last words of her sentence are swallowed in a whirlwind that batters and tosses them about. The howling wind is joined by another sound that nearly sounds like singing, but a single drawn-out note, and the sound of it strikes fear into Emil. This is no natural sound, no ordinary weather pattern. Tiny white shards of ice crystals, too fine and sharp to be snow, swirl in the air and make it more difficult to see. Through the shifting haze of ice, Emil sees a dark shadow moving beneath the clouds, gaining towards them with impossible swiftness.

Realization dawns on Emil. "It's him!" He shouts. "The frost hunter!"

[[ GOING TO TRY TO LOSE HIM, ]] Lalli says. [[ HOLD ON TIGHT. ]] He tucks his wings in close to his body and pulls into a dive.

The wind and ice lashes at Emil's body as he tries desperately to hold on as tight as he possibly can. There is the creaking sound of fabric under stress, and one of the satchels that they'd attached to Lalli's neck comes undone, spilling its contents out into the lake below.  _ So much for our food supply.. _ .

An instant later, and Lalli plunges them directly into a cloud. The water vapor immediately soaks Emil, and combined with the freezing cold, his body gives an involuntary shudder.

Worse, ice crystals start to form on the leather harness that is the only thing keeping Emil and Tuuri attached to Lalli's body. The cold temperatures and natural elements are causing the home-cured leather straps to begin to fray.  _ No, no no no, not now, _ Emil thinks desperately.

Just as he'd begun to hope that ducking into the cloud would throw off their pursuer, a dark shape appears not far away from them, its silhouette becoming uncannily familiar the closer and closer it approaches. Their hunter glides on wings of its own, its glowing green eyes shining out at them in the darkness.

"Look out!" shouts Emil, and Lalli has mere seconds to react as a concentrated blast of frozen ice crystals streaks just over their heads.

The frost hunter flaps its wings, gaining on them as Lalli begins dropping in altitude, and Emil realizes just exactly how much trouble they are in. With two passengers and their bags on his back, Lalli is too heavy and slow to outmaneuver their pursuer. 

This time, the blast of ice that comes streaking out from the mist impacts Lalli's side, sending them into a free-fall, tumbling out the bottommost layer of clouds. Lake Keuruu spreads across the landscape below, much closer than before but still a long way down, illuminated by the last crimson light of the setting sun. Lalli manages to right himself in midair again, turning to face their pursuer. The frost hunter emerges from the cloud cover into full view for the first time, and Emil feels his heart give a panicked stutter. Behind him, Tuuri gasps as well.

Because the frost hunter is a  _ dragon _ .

The fur that covers its body is ice-white, save for a shock of bright orange-red hair that runs along the ridge of the dragon's spine, all the way down the length of the long tail trailing behind it in the air, forming a tuft at the tip. Around its wolf-like face, the red hair forms a mane that whips in the wind and collects a dusting of ice shards. The membranes of its wide white wings are patterned with snowflake-like runes in a pale blue hue. It's larger than Lalli, perhaps even bigger than Onni. Its pointed ears are turned towards them, as are its eyes, pupilless and glowing emerald green.

Lalli locks eyes with the other dragon. [[ STOP THIS, ]] he tells it, mind-speech booming in their heads. [[ WE DON'T HAVE TO FIGHT. ]]

If the white dragon comprehends his words, it makes no sign of acting on them. Instead, it curls back its lips in a snarl, a blue-white glow gathering in the back of its throat as it readies another ice breath attack.

This time, though, Lalli is ready for it with answering fire of his own. The runes on his back flicker and smoke spills out of his nostrils as he counters the ice with a burst of blue flame. Fire and ice clash in midair, but before the smoke can clear Lalli has to duck sideways as the white dragon dives towards them, claws outstretched and teeth bared. It hurtles past, but not before scoring a bloody wound on Lalli's flank with its claws.

Lalli's wings beat in the air furiously as he attempts to put distance between them and the white dragon. His wing beats are labored and the breath heaves in his chest. The forces of the abrupt turn wrenches at Emil's wrists; it's all he can do to hang on for dear life. Behind him, Tuuri gives a shout and a whimper.

"You have to drop us off!" shouts Emil, hoping Lalli can hear him. "He's going to catch you otherwise!"

[[ NO! ]] Lalli responds, his words echoing in all their heads. [[ I'M NOT LETTING YOU GO. ]]

"Please, Lalli," begs Tuuri. "You have to escape. We'll be fine, I promise!"

[[ I CAN OUTRUN HIM. ]] Lalli tucks his wings close and drops lower, down towards the lake.

From above, the white dragon turns about and begins its approach towards them once more, gaining on them as they draw closer to the water's surface. Lalli cranes his neck towards the approaching dragon, gathering flames between his teeth before exhaling a burst of blue flame which passes over the heads of Emil and Tuuri, radiating searing heat. The white dragon dodges the attack, corkscrewing in the air as the fireball sails past it into the sky.

They descend until they are gliding just above the water's surface, casting a wavering reflection over the dark water. Emil twists his body around to look towards their pursuer, which is gaining on them despite Lalli's best efforts to outrun it. 

_ Onni was right, _ he thinks desperately.  _ We've got no chance against this. _

Lalli flies low across the lake's surface. Over their shoulder, the frost hunter closes in, eyes glowing a sickening green. It opens its jaws, sending a lance of ice streaking through the air, this one colliding with Lalli's wing. Lalli screams and jolts in the air, as the ice crystals spread outwards from where they impacted, crystallizing and coating his flank and a portion of his wing. They wobble in flight, Lalli's wing tips skimming the water's surface, sending a V-shaped spray of water droplets in their wake.

The ice continues creeping upwards, covering the leather straps that secure the harness to the dragon's back. It spreads across Emil's fingers and palms, causing his hands to grow numb and making it difficult to keep his grip. There's a resounding  _ SNAP _ , and the leather straps that are holding Emil and Tuuri in place come loose.

Tuuri gives a shout, and Emil looks over his shoulder just in time to see her lose her grip on the dragon's harness and fall with a splash into the lake water below.

[[ TUURI!! ]] Lalli gives a panicked shout, and tries to turn around.

In that moment, the white dragon catches up to them. The dragons collide in midair, and the impact shakes Emil loose.

For a moment, it's as though he hangs suspended in midair. Lalli's panicked, blue-glowing gaze locks with his for a second, and Emil feels all of his fear and despair as he falls down, down to lake Keuruu.

His back slaps the surface of the lake, and the dark waters open up to invite him in. He plunges into the icy cold depths, and the water rushes over his face, then over his head, and he can't see, or hear, or breathe, and it's loud, and then it's quiet, so quiet as he falls into unconsciousness.

-*-*-*-

Rough yet careful hands seize ahold of Emil and haul his body out of the lake. 

He coughs and gasps for air, expelling water from his lungs. Voices, murmured and shouting, surround him, but he can't make out any words. His vision swims and it's impossible to concentrate on anything. He just needs to rest.

He's being carried somewhere. The voices grow more and more numerous, until they unify into static in Emil's mind.

His awareness slips, and the black haze takes over his thoughts again.

-*-*-*-

When Emil next wakes, he finds himself in an unfamiliar place.

He's laid across a hard wooden bench. A thin wool blanket is draped over his body. His leather armor has been stripped away, leaving only the cotton tunic underneath, which is still somewhat damp and clings to his body in the chill air. He sits up, wincing at the pounding headache between his ears. When he moves his arm, there is a metallic clank, and he looks down at his hands to find them cuffed together with thick wooden cuffs tied together with a short length of iron chain. He feels groggy and sick, and still a bit waterlogged as he takes a look around.

He's in a cell. The floor is rough wooden planks, and there's nothing else with him except for the bench he's seated on and a bucket in the corner. Iron bars and a heavy-looking locked door block his exit.

Through the gaps in the iron bars on the door, he can see another cell on the opposite side of the narrow hallway. This cell has an occupant, too: a gray-haired man that sits hunched-over in one corner. Emil gets up and approaches the door to take a closer look. There's something familiar about the man, who looks up at the sound of the bars rattling. He looks disheveled, with matted hair and dark shadows in the lines on his face. A set of thick wooden cuffs and collar restrain his movements. As he gazes at Emil with empty and despondent eyes, Emil recognizes him from the dream.

Onni recognizes him, too. His eyes go wide, and he stands up abruptly from his bench and approaches the gate of his own cell. He places his face in between the iron bars, rattling the metal door against his lock as he glares at Emil. The sudden movement causes Emil to give an involuntary step back; for a moment, he pictures the snarl of the great grey dragon in this man's movements.

He speaks, but his words have too many consonants, and it all sounds like gibberish to Emil's ears. His tone is clear enough though: outrage and dismay at seeing Emil here, trapped in this prison with him.

"Sorry, but I can't understand you, Onni," Emil replies, his voice filled with regret.

Onni seems to recognize this, and grumbles under his breath, shrinking back from the bars of the cell. The shadows under his eyes appear to deepen, and he fixes Emil with a gaze that burns with every ounce of anger and dragonfire that he had when he was a dragon. 

When Onni speaks again, it's one word, clear and concise. "Tuuri?"

A sick feeling of guilt roils in Emil's chest at the mention of her name. In his mind, he is still replaying those few blood-chilling moments where Tuuri slipped off Lalli's back, her scream as she fell into the water below. Emil survived, so Tuuri might have, but she's not in this prison with them, and he has no idea where they are. He remembers the cold grasp of the lake water around him, and he shivers as he wraps his arms around himself.

"I don't know," he says, and shakes his head despondently.

Onni may not understand Emil's words, but he reads his expression well enough. His fiery eyes go wide, and then he covers his face with one hand in an expression of dismay. He murmurs something under his breath, which based on the tone sounds like a curse. He turns his back on Emil and retreats into the corner of his own cell, head hung low. He makes no further movement but remains there, a disheveled shell of his former self.

Emil takes a step back from the iron bars. His vision swims as hot tears cloud his vision. How could things have gone so wrong? How could he have failed so badly?

Will he ever see Lalli and Tuuri again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new character introduced in this chapter might seem a bit... familiar... to those of you who are observant enough ;)
> 
> (I've gotten through my backlog of chapters so the next update might be a little late. I'll try to have it in the usual two weeks though.)


	13. Locked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captured by the Army, Emil is forced to confront his past. Meanwhile, something is afoot in Keuruu.

-*-*-*-

Someone slides a tray with a bowl of thin broth and some hard bread under the door to Emil's cell.

"You know," says a deep and rumbling voice, "When you promised me you'd come back, I wasn't expecting it to be like this."

Emil stirs and pushes himself upright on the rough wooden platform that passes for a bed. He blinks, groggy and weary, and the blurred shapes in front of his eyes resolve themselves into the form of a large man standing on the other side of the cell door. His face is familiar: it's Mikkel, with his wide, sloped shoulders and bushy lionlike sideburns. He regards Emil with a look of stern disappointment on his usually placid face.

Emil grumbles under his breath. "...Not my fault they threw me in here."

Mikkel gives a sigh. "I thought it was a bit harsh, myself."

"Then why not let me out?" Emil holds up his cuffed hands. The clank of the chain is muffled by the wooden walls.

Mikkel's shoulders slump down. "It's out of my control," he says. "When I pulled you from the lake, I suggested bringing you to the medical tent. But the new Commander insisted we bring you here, and their orders are absolute."

"There's a new commander?"

"Yep. The one the Army sent along with the battleships. As soon as they arrived, they made it clear that dealing with the rebels and monsters was going to be the Army's top priority from here on out. And then _you_ appear, flying on a dragon's back." He shakes his head in disbelief. "I can't even fathom what must have happened after you left Keuruu."

 _Lalli happened,_ thinks Emil, and the pit of his stomach burns and twists with longing. He curls his knees in towards his chest and mutters, "That's none of your business."

Mikkel doesn't reply straight away, but gives Emil a long and weighted look, before finally glancing aside and saying, "No, I suppose it's not."

Emil looks up again, and this time catches what he thinks is a hint of weariness and regret in Mikkel's stoic expression. Out of all of the military personnel there, Mikkel isn't truly a soldier; perhaps if Emil asks, he can finally get some answers.

"Why did they send a battalion?"

Mikkel shrugs. "Orders from the top. From the King himself, I'm told. They just showed up with their ships and took over the whole place. Brought their own cooks and medics too, so I've been stuck with the role of warden, instead." He shrugs, and chuckles low to himself. "That's a new one, even for me."

Emil eyes the bread and broth, and recalls Mikkel's other cooking with disgust. He gestures towards the plate of food. "I see you're getting started early on the torture, then."

"I'm not here to torture you."

Emil glances around him at the rough wooden cell. "So where am I anyway? What is this place?"

"You're in the brig on one of our ships," Mikkel tells him. "We didn't exactly have a jail ready and waiting at Keuruu."

Emil was on a _ship_? That would explain the unsteady feeling in his stomach and the periodic waves of nausea. "How long are you planning to keep me here?!"

"I don't know how long. Like I said, it's not up to me." Mikkel casts a glance over his shoulder. "Anyway, there's somebody else here to see you."

_Oh no._

The sound of metal boots echoes down the hallway, accompanied with the clank of metal armor, and Emil feels a lump rise in his throat and a familiar anxiety. Mikkel departs from the opening of Emil's cell door, and seconds later is replaced by a tall, armored figure. The dim light of the brig makes it difficult to make out the details of her features, but there can be no mistaking the heavy greatsword that rests on her hip, or her brilliant red hair.

"Well well, Västerström," Sigrun says, her voice sounding deceptively cheerful, but with a threatening edge underneath. "Aren't you full of surprises."

Emil looks away and down towards the floor. He can't meet her eyes.

"Not willing to answer to your Captain, are you? That's fine. I'll just do the talking for us both." There's a metallic clank as she leans one armored elbow against the bars of Emil's cell. "It's been a month. A whole  _ month _ , Emil. I figured you'd gone off into the wilderness with your little scout friend and got eaten by a troll or something. But, no." She shakes her head. "They told me you flew in last night on the back of a dragon. A goddamned  _ dragon _ , Emil."

He flinches; he can't help himself. Seeing Sigrun again has flooded the pit of his stomach with dread.

"Of course, I told them that was impossible. No soldier of mine would even  _ think _ of betraying the Army like that. I mean, really, joining forces with a  _ monster _ ? Ridiculous!" She pauses, as if waiting for Emil to respond. When he doesn't, she turns away from his cell door. He looks up then, and sees her gazing into the cell on the opposite side, where Onni is being held captive.

"Fortunately, thanks to the new commander, we know how to deal with dragons now. They can't threaten us like they used to." She rattles the bars on Onni's cell. "Hey, you in there! Feel like talking today?"

After a long pause with no response, she shrugs and turns back to Emil's cell. She gestures towards Onni with one thumb over her shoulder. "Damn fool. Don't think he even speaks our language. Can you believe that sad sack used to be one of  _ them _ ? But then, you  _ would _ know, wouldn't you." A snide grin glints on her face in the low light. "...Given how your precious pipsqueak is one of them, too."

_ That _ snaps Emil out of his silence. "Lalli," he blurts out. "What have you done to him?!"

In response, Sigrun laughs, sharp and mirthless, the sound echoing throughout the belly of the ship.

"Well,  _ that _ got a reaction out of you all right." She crosses her arms, continuing to wear that smug smirk on her face. "And don't you despair, pretty-boy. Your pet monster is still alive.  _ For now _ ," she says. Her hand rests on the pommel of her greatsword, and she draws it just a few inches out of its sheath, steel glinting in the low light. "Of course, if it were up to me, I'd exterminate these vermin without a second thought. A monster that wears a human face is still a monster, after all."

" _ You're _ the real monsters," Emil spits back. "Can't you see that what the Army is doing here is wrong? This is genocide! How can you just stand by and watch?!"

She re-sheaths her blade, and the smile drops from her face, replaced with a scowl. "So it's true, then. You really  _ have _ turned to their side." She straightens her spine, placing one hand on her hip. "I'm a soldier, Emil. A good soldier doesn't question their orders. Not that  _ you'd _ understand what it means to have honor."

"How is any of this honorable? The Army is killing innocent people!"

Sigrun goes quiet. Her eyes narrow, and she reaches out to grip the bars of his cell with both hands. "You're in no place to talk about killing innocents, Västerström. Or did you forget the reason why you're here in the first place?"

Her words burn like the lash of a whip. Emil flinches, and drops his gaze to the floor, but Sigrun continues, relentless: " _ You _ set a blaze that burned your own estate to cinders, with your family inside. So don't you  _ dare _ talk to me about right and wrong. You're fortunate to even be here at all. By the King's blessing, you could have redeemed your sin and restored your honor. Not anymore. You lost all hope when you decided that some savage  _ beast  _ was more important than duty to your country."

She releases her grip on the cell bars and turns her back towards Emil. "I believed in you, once," she says. Her voice suddenly sounds weary, like it had that one time she'd confided in Emil a lifetime ago. "I stood up for you when the other soldiers mocked you. I really believed you could become a great warrior. Now, I'm sorry I ever trusted you at all."

Emil feels hollow inside. Sigrun's words have reminded him of exactly where he has fallen. He really has lost everything: his family, his future, and now even Lalli has been taken from him. He's trapped, locked in a cage while the world literally burns down around him.

He hears footsteps. Sigrun has begun to walk away from his cell. With the croak that's left of his voice, he mutters, "It won't work, you know."

She pauses, turns back on her heel. "What was that?"

"The Cleansing," he says, his breath shuddering out of his lungs. "It won't work. The dark creatures will just come back out of the burned land. They'll destroy everything, including the Army."

"I don't know how you could possibly know about—"

"I've seen it. I've been... seeing things, in my dreams. Ever since I first arrived in Suomi," he tells her, and looks up into her furious violet eyes. "If you wipe out the dragons, you'll just doom yourselves and everybody else that lives here."

For a moment, her brow knits, a shadow of doubt cast across her face before her expression resolves itself into stern contempt again.

"That's _ enough _ _!_ " She grasps the hilt of her sword. "I've heard enough out of you. Clearly these monsters have warped your already weak mind." She appears to relax, and loosens her grip. "You'll stay here until you realize your mistake. Until that happens, you need to keep out of our way." She turns towards the exit. As she does, she casts one final glance back towards him, a hint of an unknown expression — regret? — in her eye. "Goodbye, Emil."

He doesn't respond. His gaze sinks to the floorboards as the sound of her footsteps diminishes into the distance, and then Emil is alone once again.

He squeezes his eyes shut, covers his face with his hands, and exhales a shaky breath as warm tears drip through his fingers onto the wooden floor.

-+-+-+-

The exterior of the Keuruu camp is a maze of tents and rough footpaths, busy with constant activity. The boundaries of the camp extend outwards of the old settlement border and intrude into the clear-cut lands surrounding it. Teams of soldiers, armed with saw blades and axes, work all hours of the day and throughout the night to fell trees and clear the forest to the north and east. Horse-drawn carriages tread across the muddy pathways, churning the earth as they drag their cargo of logs and timber to the growing stacks at the center of the old Keuruu base.

At night, large lit braziers are raised on pillars of wood to illuminate the edges of camp. Despite the late hour, bodies of soldiers and personnel continue their labors in the flickering torchlight. The camp is active and tireless, as their labors won't wait until dawn.

Through this constant buzz of activity, a lone figure clad in soldier's garb, with a metal helmet obscuring their face, slips into the shadows between the raised torches, their movements hidden by the flickering light. With all of the activity in the camp, they don't draw much attention, although a keen eye would notice how their uniform seems ill-fitting, bunched up around the elbows and wrists, chain mail rattling as though it were several sizes too large. The person slides behind a stack of felled logs and slumps against the rough wood to catch their breath. They lift the helmet off their head, freeing a mass of fluffy grey hair from underneath.

Tuuri wipes the sweat from her brow and breathes a sigh of relief. She's managed to sneak in without drawing suspicion as of yet. Stealing the clothes from the wash house by the lake had been more or less a cinch; but staking out the camp long enough to plot a proper infiltration route was less straightforward. This new commander must have changed up the order and timing of the guard shifts. It feels as though security has quadrupled. And she can't help but notice the significant lack of any other gray-haired folk. It seems like her fellow _suomalaiset_ have been ousted from the Army's ranks, perhaps out of fear of an uprising.

Well, Tuuri will show _them_ an uprising.

Her disguise has worked so far, but she's still no closer to finding Onni, or Emil and Lalli for that matter. She knows that Onni and Lalli, at least, are still alive, given the conversation she'd eavesdropped on earlier:

_"Another goddamned dragon? Why don't they just hack the bloody thing's head off and put an end to it? What's so special about that thing that it's gotta be kept alive?"_

_"Don't ask me, mate. The commander just said it was important. Wish they wouldn't keep monsters inside the base like that, though."_

_"I know! Makes me nervous, having the damn thing around. Nevermind the white one the commander keeps as a pet. There's something freaky about it..."_

_"Hey, don't let them hear you say that. We're not supposed to talk about it."_

_"Right, right, sorry..."_

As relieved as Tuuri is that Lalli is still alive, and apparently being held in the base somewhere, she can't help but fixate on the other thing the soldiers mentioned: the white dragon, the one that attacked them in the air. There was something unusual about it, beyond the shock of seeing another dragon in Suomi. Her mind keeps drifting back to those empty, emerald-green eyes on the white dragon's face, how it had completely ignored Lalli's attempts to communicate and attacked them relentlessly. Why would a dragon ally itself with the Scanian military, of all things?

She takes out her skald's notebook. The edges of its pages are stained and blotted from her plunge into the lake, but the oiled cover managed to keep the majority of the words within intact. She flips the pages until she finds the one she's looking for.

 _A dragon that breathes ice,_ she thinks to herself. _Could it really have come all the way from Ísland?_ That's so far away, she has a hard time imagining it. Yet, what she saw matches up exactly with her notes on dragonlore.

So long as the white dragon is there, it will sense Onni and Lalli and hunt them down. If she wants to free her friends and save Suomi, she will need to find this white dragon first.

She pulls the metal helmet back on her head. Flipping to the back of her book, she uses a sharpened piece of charcoal to continue making notes on the hand-drawn map she's made of the new camp. As she's adding her observations of different entry points and egresses, she hears the loud sound of someone clearing their throat in front of her.

"Er-hem!"

Tuuri looks up, heart pounding and blood rushing in her ears. A tall man is standing over her, arms crossed and a stern look on his face. Tuuri is extremely grateful she put on the helmet to hide her face.

"What do you think you're doing, soldier? Trying to slack off from your duties?"

Tuuri straightens up and salutes. In the deepest voice she can muster, she answers, "No, sir! Sorry, sir!" She glances at the stripes on his shoulder; this man is an officer.

The officer points to the book she is holding. "What were you doing with that book!"

"Just, um, keeping track of supply totals! Sir!" She grips the notebook tightly. "Wouldn't want my fellow soldiers to be under-equipped. There's monsters out in those woods!"

The officer scowls. "We have skalds in charge of equipment," he says. "Privates such as yourself should be focused on preparing for the Cleansing, not wasting time on matters that aren't their job." He narrows his eyes, and points to Tuuri's notebook. "That book isn't standard issue." He extends his hand. "Hand it over."

Tuuri is _not_ doing that. "It's, um, a keepsake, so I'd prefer to hold on to it, if it's all the same."

"That's an _order,_ soldier." The officer's scowl turns to rage. "Give. It. Here. Or else I'll have you punished."

This spells trouble; she needs a distraction, _now_. With the steel toe of one boot, she nudges at one of the logs on the bottom of the wood pile, and stalls for time. "Of course, we wouldn't want that," she says. "And sir, may I just say that uniform looks really good on you? Like, really good. Did you have it tailored to fit?"

"Huh?" The officer blinks, confused for a moment, then the rage returns to his expression. "You are out of line, private. Your behavior is highly suspicious!" He grips the hilt of the sword on his belt. "Hand over that notebook and remove your helmet so that I can see your face!"

"See, that's the problem, sir, it's stuck on my head and I can't get it off," Tuuri tells him, nudging the wooden log further with her toe. Behind her, the other logs in the wood pile clatter against each other.

"You're lying," the officer says, calling her bluff. "You're not acting like a soldier at all. In fact, I'd say you're acting more like a spy!" He draws his sword with a metallic sound. "The penalty for espionage is death!"

 _Oh, curses._ She's been found out. Tuuri puts on her sweetest, most charming voice. "Perhaps you could reconsider making your report, just this once?"

"Absolutely not!" the officer roars, spittle flying from his lips as he levels the tip of his sword at her. "I'm placing you under arrest, in the name of the King!"

"Oh, that's a real pity," she tells him, and kicks the log out from the base of the wood pile.

There's a rumbling sound, which becomes a clattering roar as the piled-up logs come loose from their stack in a cascade. The officer has just enough time to look up in shock as the torrent of felled trees crashes into him. He gives a shout of surprise that is quickly swallowed up by the sound of wood knocking against wood as he is buried underneath the logs.

Tuuri doesn't stick around to find out what happens next. She spins on her heel and sprints away at full-tilt, trying to put as much distance as she can between her and the officer without caring where she's headed.

Unfortunately, her escape isn't as stealthy as she'd have liked. As she sprints through Keuruu, weaving through crowds of soldiers and vaulting over empty horse-drawn carts, heads turn and fingers point in her direction. She hears pounding footsteps give chase behind her. Her heart in her throat, she thinks quickly. _Can't outrun them all. Have to find somewhere to hide so I can lose them._

Tuuri slips between two tents, pulling the stakes out of the earth as she passes by so the canvas structures sag and slump over behind her. It won't keep her pursuers off her tail for long, but it gives her a few moments to catch her breath, arms resting just above her knees as she gasps for air in her lungs. When the thundering footsteps grow louder again, she casts a glance over her shoulder and sees the shadows of marching soldiers cast against the tent canvas by the flickering torchlight.

She flees again, her pursuers' shouts echoing behind her. She stumbles and scrambles to her feet, wishing she had Lalli's swiftness and ability to blend into the background wherever he goes. Or the ability to transform into a huge flying dragon. That would be perfect at a time like this.

A voice in the back of her mind tells her to head to an area of camp unlit by torchlight, where there will be fewer soldiers and officers to catch her. Based on her hand-drawn map and past knowledge of Keuruu's layout, she knows she's somewhere around the center of the camp. Her surroundings start to look more familiar: she sees the mess hall that they'd labored all summer to build, its roof newly repaired. Its walls are hung with banners belonging to the new division of the King's Army that has occupied Keuruu. She intuits that this building is where the new commander has taken up residence to direct of the invading battalion.

It would probably be a bad idea to walk right into the commander's office, she decides. Instead, she looks around and spies a shadowed area behind the mess hall. Stacks of barrels, shipping crates and supplies are piled up around a new, large structure that appears to be made out of metal. No soldiers or other military personnel seem to be around; it seems like a perfect area to hide until her pursuers either give up or lose interest. The metal frame is comprised of thick bars that are spaced just far enough apart for her to slip through, so she does, squeezing her body through the gap and into the shadowy open space on the other side.

Now safely tucked into the shadows, Tuuri breathes a sigh of relief and slumps to the floor, pulling off her helmet once again. That was _way_ too close for comfort; she'll have to be more careful in the future, especially considering the guards are most likely on the hunt for someone matching her description now. She decides to rest for a while, letting the exhaustion seep out of her bones as she gathers her breath and takes a look around her.

 _What is this place?_ She wonders as she looks around in the low light. As her eyes adjust, she finds herself in the middle of a metallic structure with four walls, a dirt floor and an open roof, showing a clear view of the stars up above. The walls are at least three times her height and made of solid iron bars. They are spaced just far enough apart for her to squeeze through; but a larger person would definitely have trouble getting in and out.

If Tuuri didn't know any better, she'd think this was some sort of... cage?

It's then that she hears, or more accurately _feels_ , a deep rumbling as though of a great creature breathing. A chill breeze agitates the short hairs at the back of her head and a shiver runs down her spine. She turns to face the source of the sound, staring at what she first believed was a pile of supplies and spare canvas in the corner of the cage.

The dark shape shifts in the shadows. There is the sound of chains rattling under the sigh of breath as the creature rouses, shifting its white, leathery wings and lifting its red-maned head from where it was lying on the floor. Cold air vents from its snout as it cranes its long neck towards her, opening its glowing, emerald-green eyes to look in her direction.

She's found the white dragon, without even meaning to; now, she's within easy striking distance. It could easily snap her up with its gigantic, fanged jaws if it wanted to. Living with Onni has made Tuuri somewhat used to being near dragons, but even that familiarity can't prevent her stomach from bottoming out in fear.

The white dragon's emerald-green eyes open wider, and Tuuri sees what she saw before: no pupils, only a blank void where the windows to its soul should be. Actually, now that she's a little bit closer, she can see that there _are_ pupils, but they are clouded over and obscured, as though the dragon is nearly blind.

The dragon's subtle movements rattle the chains on its body. In the green light of its eyes, Tuuri can see a collar around its neck and cuffs on its legs, strung together with heavy iron chain. Looking closer, she notices the areas around the cuffs are chafed red with scratch marks around them, as though the dragon has been idly clawing at them, to little effect.

Moreover, she senses little hostile intent, despite the white dragon's aggressive attack on Lalli during their approach to Keuruu. In fact, as she exhales one shaky breath after another, the dragon shows no indication of moving at all, other than just to look at her. Its eyes are like vacant pools, devoid of all emotion. But the dried tear tracks around its eyes tell a different story, one of pain and suffering. This is a creature that has stopped fighting a long time ago.

"You poor thing," Tuuri breathes. "What have they done to you?"

The dragon does not react, other than continuing to watch her with empty eyes. The spirit of the mage that should inhabit its mighty frame has long departed, or else has been locked away so deep inside that it might as well be lost. This dragon is an empty vessel, stripped of nearly all light and life.

Seeing the white dragon bound up like this breaks Tuuri's heart. What kind of cruel, dark magic could inflict this on a creature?

That thought gradually turns to cold dread. Lalli and Onni have both been captured, too. What if the army plans on inflicting on them whatever has been done to _this_ dragon? A wave of revulsion and nausea passes through her as she imagines her brother, her cousin, being tortured and victimized by the same black magic that has torn out the soul of this creature. She won't allow that to happen. She _can't._

She takes one tentative step forward, then another. The white dragon's breath rumbles inside its chest as it exhales cold air, but it doesn't move as Tuuri crosses the cage to approach it, one hand held out. She steps into the pool of green light that spills from its empty eyes and cautiously lays one hand upon its tear-stained snout.

"I'll save you," she tells it. She doesn't know how yet, but she certainly can't leave this poor thing in the clutches of the Army, now that she knows what they have done to it. Everything she has learned from her books and scrolls has led her here. There was a reason she and the white dragon found each other. Call it destiny, or the will of the gods, but she has an uncanny certainty that she's the only one who can help.

If only she knew what she needed to do to free him. She reaches up until her fingers touch the cold iron collar around the dragon's neck. It's solid all the way around and tight enough to dig into the dragon's neck, engraved with interlocking shapes of runes from a magic style she doesn't know. She gives the collar an experimental tug, which provokes a low whine out of the dragon, the first reaction it's made since it looked up at her. She recoils quickly, murmuring apologies as she does. There's something magical about the collar; trying to remove it using conventional means will likely not work.

Tuuri kneels, feeling the exhaustion in her muscles from the day's trials of swimming, spying, and running for her life. She's worried that if she falls asleep, she will be caught and arrested, and likely executed per the officer's threat. But she can't bear to leave the white dragon's side.

She lets out an involuntary yawn. Strangely, she might have inadvertently found the safest place in Keuruu to hide from the soldiers. _Based on what I overheard, they're all scared of going near it,_ she thinks. And she knows the dragon won't hurt her.

She leans against the unkempt white fur on the dragon's flank. Nothing wrong with taking a short nap, she figures. Perhaps she'll wake up with a new idea on how to set the dragon free.

There is a muted rustle as the dragon extends its wing to cover Tuuri's body as she drifts off into sleep.

-*-*-*-

_Emil's boot soles crunch on snow as he wanders across the frozen forest, taking care not to slip on the ice underfoot. He pulls his cloak around him and shivers in the cold._

_He's in the same place as before - the frost hunter's realm - only now it's completely encased in ice. No hint of movement or life inhabits this frozen wasteland; the wind doesn't even blow. As before, a thick grey fog makes it difficult to see more than a few paces in any direction._

_He doesn't know how long he's been walking in this dream, but one thought is clear in his mind: he needs to find Lalli._

_At least the ice means he doesn't have to worry about falling into the lake. The trees grow more numerous as he walks, and he knows he's approaching the grove where he and Lalli encountered Onni, during that first dream where he'd given them that futile warning to stay away._

_Sure enough, the large dark shape of a flat-topped boulder soon looms out of the fog. Seated atop the boulder is the gray-haired, scruffy man he's come to recognize as Onni's human form. Spiky frost coats his eyebrows, hair and dragonfur cloak, as well as the kantele that lays across his lap where he sits cross-legged._

_"Onni?" Emil tries, and reaches out to touch his shoulder. He doesn't respond, as still and silent as the icy wilderness that surrounds them. Whether frozen or asleep, he's not able to offer any help or guidance to Emil in his search._

_Emil quickly gives up on trying to rouse him and turns to look into the deeper wood. Off in the distance, he spies a faint green light, diffused by the fog. The light compels him to follow, so he does, hope pulsing in his heart as he takes off towards it in a sprint. It has to be Lalli. It always has been, before._

_The green glow gets brighter and brighter as the snow thins out underfoot, and before Emil realizes what's happening his boot slips on a patch of bare ice, sending him crashing backwards to the ground with a yelp. His back collides with the hard, cold surface, sending a jarring snap of pain through his spine. He rubs the back of his head, cursing, and sits upright to look around._

_His wild hope fades as he looks around the empty clearing. There's no sign of anyone: no rocks or trees, and definitely no Lalli. He's seated in the center of a perfectly smooth, circular area cleared of snow, and the green glow he was chasing seems to be emanating from underneath the ice. Curious, he peers into the icy portal._

_On the other side of the ice is another world. Emil's been in the dream world enough times by now to know this is commonplace, but it still doesn't eliminate the peculiar feeling as he looks through the clear ice to the lush, green landscape on the other side. He's looking up through some kind of flowing water it seems, as the image wavers and distorts before his eyes. This new dream space is a serene river framed by grassy hillsides, gently sloped and dotted with the puffy white shapes of grazing sheep._

_Seated by the river's edge, with his eyes shut and chest gently rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep, is a lanky young man with red hair plaited in an unreasonably long braid. Emil doesn't recognize him at all, but there's something oddly familiar about the way his wild hair frames his face, and the freckles scattered across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose._

_Ripples spread across the surface of the water, and another form appears in the idyllic dreamscape. This person is far more familiar, with her short, stocky frame and fluffy grey hair, and Emil recognizes her straightaway._

_"Tuuri!" he shouts, and pounds his fists on the ice. Tuuri is alive! And she's... in the dream world, somehow? But despite Emil's best efforts to get her attention from the other side, Tuuri appears not to hear him. She stands ankle-deep in the river water and wears a confused expression. After a moment, she notices the boy sleeping by the riverbank and approaches him._

_"Excuse me?" she asks, her voice sounding far away to Emil as it echoes up through the ice. When the red-haired boy doesn't respond, she pokes him in his shoulder. "Sorry to bother you. I think I've gotten lost somehow. Do you know what this place is?"_

_At first, the redhead doesn't seem to respond to her questioning, but after Tuuri's repeated pokes and prods he stirs and opens one eye. When he sees her, he gives a shout of surprise and scrambles to his feet._

_"Wha-- what are you doing here?!" He appears on edge, his green eyes scanning Tuuri as though she represents a potential threat._

_Tuuri puffs out her cheeks and places her hands on her hips. "I could ask you the same thing! I've no idea how I got here or what this place even is."_

_"...Oh," the boy says, and seems to relax and drop his guard a little. "This place is... my home, I think. Well, it's not really, but I guess it is now." He shrugs. "I've been stuck here for... a while. You're the only other person I've seen since they put me here. And that was a really,_ really _long time ago."_

 _Tuuri tilts her head curiously. "Who's 'they'? And who are_ you _, for that matter?"_

_Her line of questioning appears to unsettle the boy. He grabs hold of his long braid, nervously twisting it around in his fingers. "I... I don't..." He looks away, out into the misty hillsides. "I can't remember..."_

_A look of sympathy spreads across Tuuri's face. She sits down beside the river's edge and dangles her toes in the water, the stream current eddying around her feet. She pats the stone next to her, inviting the boy to join at her side._

_"You don't have to force yourself," she tells him. "Anyway, I'm Tuuri. It's nice to meet you."_

_After a moment's hesitation, he joins her at the riverside, crouched with his knees bunched up beneath his chin. "Nice to meet you, Tuuri. I'm sorry I can't remember much."_

_"That's all right." She kicks her feet in the river, sending misty splashes up into the air. "It's a very pretty home you have here."_

_"I guess..." He wears a wistful look on his face. "It's just, I always wanted to go someplace new. See the world, you know? And yet, here I am stuck in this boring, lonely place with all these stupid sheep."_

_Tuuri gasps. "I know exactly what you mean! I wanted to see the world, too... but then..." she looks away and down. "...I had to give up on that dream, because I had people at home that I needed to protect."_

_The boy relaxes further, stretching out one lanky leg to dangle in the river. "Sounds like we're the same, then," he says. He tilts his head upwards to look at the misty gray sky. "They told me they could take me to new places, you know. Like further south, where the ocean waters are warm and the trees are strange and fresh fruit grows all year long."_

_"That sounds lovely," Tuuri says. "I've never even seen the ocean."_

_"It's not that exciting," the boy says with a shrug. "It's just... huge, and blue, as far as you can see."_

_"Even so, I'd like to see that."_

_The boy takes a long look at her. "Well, you still can. You're not trapped here like I am. At least, I hope not." He pauses, seems to reflect on what he said, and backpedals, "I-I mean, not that I mind you're here! I quite like it actually. Feels like ages since I had anybody to talk to. I mean, I wouldn't want you to be stuck here forever. It does get boring after a while."_

_"How do you know you're trapped? Haven't you tried to leave?" Tuuri asks, peering at him curiously._

_That same pained expression returns to his face; the one he wore when she asked him about his name. "I... just can't," he says. He touches fingers to his neck, a seemingly involuntary motion that suggests a collar there, although nothing is visible. "It... hurts too much, whenever I try."_

_Tuuri's expression becomes serious. She turns to face the boy, and places a hand atop his, where it rests on the rock. He gives her a confused look in response._

_"Listen to me," she tells him. "I think I know how to get you free. But I'm going to need you to trust me, and I know that might be difficult, since you were lied to before by whoever trapped you in here, but—"_

_"—No! No, it's okay," says the boy. He turns his hand and squeezes Tuuri's in return. "I... can't explain why, but I feel like I can trust you. You aren't like the others. And there's nothing I would like more than to finally leave this place."_

_She breathes a sigh of relief. "...Good. That's good, because what I'm about to say might sound a little crazy, but..." her dark gray eyes stare into his green ones. "...I think you might be a dragon."_

_"A— a_ dragon _?!" The boy stands up abruptly and takes a step away from her. "I— I'm not, there's no way..."_

_Tuuri gets to her feet as well. "Think hard. Try to remember. A white dragon, with a red mane..."_

_"That's... that can't be right..."_

_On the other side of the dream, the circle of clear ice Emil is using as a window begins to crack._

_The boy grasps at his braid, knots it between his fingers. "I-I'm not a dragon. I'm a person..."_

_"You are!" Tuuri crosses the gap between them again and places one hand on the boy's shoulder. "You are a person,_ and _a dragon! You're both!"_

_"Uuuuuhhh," he groans, gripping his hands on either side of his head._

_More cracks begin to spread across the icy surface of the frozen lake, radiating outwards in six directions from the center where Emil stands._

_"It's all right, you can fight it," Tuuri reassures him. "You're strong, and I'm right here with you. But, please, you need to remember..."_

_"UuuuuuaaaaaAAAAAAAAAHHhhhhh!" The boy lets out an ear-splitting yell, which echoes across both sides of the dream world. There's a rumbling beneath Emil's feet, and he gives a yelp of surprise as deep fissures split the icy surface of the frozen lake, revealing frothy water below. The cracks radiate outwards, sending a resounding_ boom-crack _across the frozen landscape as Emil is cast adrift, clinging to a shard of ice for dear life as the torrent of white-water spills outwards, falling impossibly upwards into the sky as the dream breaks apart, folds and unfolds itself, the pristine icy white landscape fragmenting and disintegrating as pure entropic chaos consumes everything in sight._

_As quickly as it all started, it's over. Emil comes to awareness again lying in an inch-deep pool of warm water. As he pushes himself upright, he sees that the grey clouds have lifted from the sky overhead, showing bright stars that glitter in the heavens and are reflected by the water below. Only a few thin curtains of fog remain, drifting low above the water's surface._

_Several paces away, Emil spies Onni, who looks similarly disoriented as he stands up, still holding his kantele. He looks over, and his eyes widen when he sees Emil there._

_Before they can exchange any words however, they are interrupted by the sound of footsteps splashing in shallow water, and two figures emerge out of the fog._

_There's Tuuri, who looks exhausted but content. She's sitting astride the back of an enormous white dragon, which stands atop the waters of the shallow sea, its paws only skimming the surface._

_[[ I remember now, ]] the dragon says, its emerald-green eyes alight and animated with life as it looks towards Tuuri. [[ My name is Reynir. ]]_

_Tuuri gives a breezy laugh. "Hi, Reynir. It's nice to properly meet you."_

_[[ I was a shepherd, ]] he says. [[ The Army took me from my home village. They used magic to try to make me forget who I was. ]] A mournful look fills his green eyes. [[ I... don't know where my family are now, how many years it's been since then. ]]_

_"We can find all that out," Tuuri tells him. "But, well, I think we're gonna have to wake up first."_

_[[ Wake up? ]]_

_"Yeah," she says. "I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure this is a dream." She looks out over the dragon's head, and for the first time sees Emil and Onni. She breaks into a grin and greets them with a cheerful wave. "Oh! Hi there!"_

_Still completely confounded by what he's seen, Emil raises a hand and gives a tentative wave in return._

_The white dragon looks up at Tuuri. [[ Who is that? ]]_

_"Those are our friends," she says to him. Then she looks out at Emil and Onni again. "Don't worry! We're coming to rescue you! Just hold on for a little while longer, okay?" She frowns in concentration. "I've nearly got this waking up thing figured out. I think it's as simple as--"_

_Her words fade out to silence as her form dissipates into fog. Reynir looks alarmed, at first, then a look of understanding dawns in his eyes._

_[[ Oh, it really is that simple, ]] he says, and dissolves into fog as well._

_Onni and Emil find themselves alone in the dream, which is rapidly disintegrating without Reynir's presence. They meet eyes, and Onni gives Emil a look and a nod, that for once has a hint of something more than bleak oblivion; something that resembles hope._

_The world turns to white as the dream fades away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More art:  
> [Dragon Reynir](https://imgur.com/a/wAdtUbP)
> 
> Thanks as always for all your comments and kudos.  
> We're heading into the finale, folks! Just a couple more chapters until the end, of this story anyway...


	14. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Reynir now freed from the Army's clutches, Emil faces a life-or-death decision when it comes to escaping his own imprisonment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but we're back!  
> This chapter (and the next one) took a long time to write, for reasons that will probably become clear.  
> Also, I revised some sections of the previous chapter (namely, Emil and Sigrun's conversation), so if you haven't read that in a while, I recommend having a look.

-*-*-*-

In the dank, dingy brig of the ship where Emil and Onni are imprisoned, the only sign of time passing is a narrow window set into the low ceiling. Some meagre amount of sunlight spills into the wood-paneled room, and it's this tiny glimpse of the outside world that Emil fixates on, as his only tether to the outside world, where Lalli is waiting for him.

It's the dawn of the third day since Emil's imprisonment, and he's on the verge of breakdown. Since the dream with Tuuri and Reynir, he has laid awake, staring up at the tiny gap between the steel bars as the night sky gradually fades to mauve, then peach and sky blue. Tuuri had promised she was coming to rescue them, but how could he be sure? What was he supposed to believe? With no sign of Lalli in the dream world, he could already be—

Outside of the window, he hears a clamor and voices raised to a shout. He sits up on the uncomfortable bench in interest. What was going on? Was the Cleansing set to begin already? Then he hears another sound, the deep resonance of a war horn echoing out across the camp in three short bursts.

He knows what that means: _To arms! We're under attack!_

Moments later, the ship is rocked violently by a collision with something massive. Emil falls off the bench and onto the floor, which pitches side to side as the vessel bobs in the water. In the other cell, Onni is likewise flung out of his meditative stupor, cursing in _suomi_ as he gets up off the ground.

The shaking is followed by the sound of footsteps on the deck of the boat up above. Emil listens intently as the steps draw closer, until they are joined by a female voice, high-pitched and familiar, and Emil's heartbeat rises in his chest.

_Tuuri!_

"Sorry, but could you please move out of the way? I'm trying to rescue my friends and save Suomi."

"You know, I'm really not supposed to let you through," answers a deep, rumbling voice.

"Come _on_ , Mikkel," she says. "You've always been reasonable and kind. You should _know_ that what the Army is doing here is wrong."

"You're so strong willed, Tuuri. I suppose I'm not that surprised to see you here. Do you really think you can stand up to a whole army, though?"

"Maybe not," replies Tuuri. "But I'm pretty sure we can stand up to _you._ I'd really rather not hurt you, but Reynir here might have other ideas."

Mikkel gives a long-suffering sigh. "Well," he says after a prolonged pause, "I guess it won't be the first time I've been fired from my job."

There's a jingling of keys, and then the door swings open and sunlight shines into the brig. Footsteps rush down the stairs and Tuuri's familiar, fluffy-haired face comes into view. Her hair is messy, and there are streaks of dirt and dried blood on her face, but when she spies Emil and Onni, she smiles her radiant smile.

"Hi, you two!" she says cheerfully. "We've come to rescue you!"

Onni runs to the bars of his cell. "Tuuri," he says, his voice thick with relief.

She brandishes the ring of keys and, after some fumbling, unlocks the doors of both Onni and Emil's cells. When it comes to unlocking their handcuffs, the smallest key fits easily into Emil's iron shackles, sending them clattering to the floor. But Onni's rune-engraved collar lacks a keyhole.

"These look magical in nature," Tuuri says to him. "I don't think these keys will help remove them."

"What's going on, Tuuri?" Emil asks, before the ship rocks in its moor again and the face of the white dragon enters into the brig. He's so big that his head barely fits in the narrow hallway. Despite the dream last night, Emil still gives a yelp of surprise at seeing the frost hunter so close.

"Reynir, no!" Tuuri exclaims, and shoves at the white dragon's snout. "I told you to wait outside!"

[[ _I was just wondering what you were doing down there,_ ]] Reynir says, looking around. [[ _Besides, I think we should leave soon. There are soldiers gathering, and they're headed this way._ ]]

She gives a resigned sigh. "Okay, fine, we're leaving," she says, and turns to Onni. "Looks like you're stuck as a human for a little while longer until we can get those off. Now, both of you follow me!"

They emerge out of the brig and onto the deck of the battleship. As they pass by the entrance, Emil makes eye contact with Mikkel, who is leaning on a mast; his face as neutral as ever, he gives a shrug and half-hearted wave.

_Looks like I'm not the only traitor here today,_ Emil thinks as he runs past. Mikkel may have been their jailer, but his cooperation with Tuuri at least shows that he was never actively trying to do any of them harm. Or perhaps it was just since she threatened him. Regardless, Emil feels something like gratitude towards him. He hopes that the Army doesn't punish him too harshly; but based on his knowledge of the new commander, he doesn't have high expectations.

The majority of the space on the ship's deck is occupied by the white dragon. He's so heavy that his weight is causing the boat to list to one side, and his long, red-tufted tail is draped over the edge of the ship. Despite his obvious and overwhelming power, the expression on the dragon's face can best be described as sheepish as he regards Onni and Emil coming up from the brig.

Tuuri gestures between them. "Onni and Emil, meet Reynir. Reynir, this is my brother, Onni, and my friend, Emil."

[[ _...Hi,_ ]] Reynir says, making eye contact for a moment and quickly glancing aside. [[ _It's nice to meet you, Onni and Emil. I'm sorry about attacking you earlier._ ]]

"I-it's okay," Emil finds himself saying. "It wasn't really your fault, right? You were being controlled."

Tuuri claps her hands. "No time to chit-chat!" she says, and gestures towards the land. Where she points, Emil sees a forest of spears, pikes and torches, converging towards the docks.

Mikkel was right: how _were_ they going to stand up against an entire army?

"Climb on," Tuuri says, as she scrambles up Reynir's wing to sit astride his back. She gestures for them to follow her.

In response to Tuuri's suggestion, Onni shakes his head and responds with a flurry of words in _suomi_ . Tuuri seems taken aback for a moment, then responds in _suomi_ herself. The two have a conversation whose meaning is completely opaque to Emil. Finally, Tuuri switches to Scanian: "Oh for the love of— just get _on_ , Onni! Who _cares_ if you can fly yourself? You obviously can't until we find out how to break the spell, and if we wait any longer they'll catch us all!"

Eventually, at Tuuri's urging, Onni gives an exhausted sigh and lets himself be helped awkwardly up onto the white dragon's back. Tuuri then extends her hand towards Emil.

"Come on! Let's get out of here!"

Emil starts to take a step, but then hesitates. There is an unseen force that drags at him like a heavy weight, keeping his feet firmly planted on the ship's deck.

"...I can't," he tells her. "I can't leave Lalli."

Tuuri frowns. "...But, Emil, are you sure you don't want to escape with us? We'll come back for Lalli once we're better prepared for a fight."

Emil shakes his head. "I can't take that risk. What if something's already happened to him?"

A look of deep sadness and understanding passes over her expression. She takes a step towards Emil. Unexpectedly, she wraps her arms around his midsection.

"Thank you, Emil," she says into his chest. "For always being there for my cousin. He-- needs you, you know. And we need him. I don't know what we would do without both of you."

"Um--" He doesn't know how to reply. How could he put into words all of the ways that Lalli has changed his life? How he has helped Emil forgive the darkest shameful parts of himself? How, without him, Emil's life would lose its purpose?

What he manages to say is, "I know. I need him, too."

Tuuri pulls back from Emil, and there are tears in her eyes. "Promise me you'll protect him? And you'll stay safe, yourself?"

"I promise," Emil replies, his voice hoarse. _At least, the first part about protecting Lalli, he can promise. As for his own safety... that might be a more difficult promise to keep._

Tuuri approaches Reynir's side and hops up on the dragon's back. As she settles in, Reynir stands up and flexes his wings, preparing for takeoff. 

"We'll come back for you," Tuuri says. "As soon as we break Onni's curse. We'll come back here, and we'll rescue both of you and stop the army from destroying everything."

The noise of the soldiers approaching grows louder. Reynir appears noticeably restless, shuffling his paws and glancing towards the oncoming heavily-armed platoon.

"...See you then," Emil says, shielding his eyes from the sunlight as he looks up at the white dragon.

There's a whistling sound as an arrow sails overhead and embeds itself in one of the ship's masts. "That's our cue! Gotta go," says Tuuri. She pats Reynir's side, and grips tightly to the long mane of red fur on his back. He flaps his wings, sending out a chill blast of wind that sweeps across the ship and whips Emil's hair against his face. The white dragon bounds across the deck, causing the ship to rock violently, before leaping over the edge. With thunderous wing beats, he sails into the sky.

As he banks a turn in midair, swerving back over Keuruu, the soldiers turn their attention away from the boat and towards the escaping dragon and his two passengers. Another volley of arrows arcs towards him, only to be blown aside with the wind from his powerful wings. The war horn bellows again, and the army platoon changes direction and begins marching towards the opposite side of the camp.

Still on the deck of the boat, Emil lets go of the rope securing him to the mast with a sigh of relief. Tuuri and Reynir were successfully distracting the soldiers, for a little while anyway, so now was his chance--

"Wait, Emil. Before you run off..."

Emil whirls around towards Mikkel, who has emerged from below deck once more. He's carrying a cloth bundle in his hands.

"You should probably take these. We confiscated them when we pulled you out of the lake."

He unrolls the bundle in his arms. It's Emil's cloak, and the set of leather armor that Tuuri repaired for him. At the middle of the bundle, still in its sheath, is Emil's sword.

Emil stares at the clothes and sword, then looks up at Mikkel. "...Why are you helping me?"

Mikkel shrugs. "Figured I might as well, since they're going to fire me anyway," he says.

"But that's-- you could be executed for aiding an enemy, you know! Are you crazy?!"

"Wouldn't be the first time I've been accused of that. But no, I'm not crazy. I just think if you charge into that camp with no gear and no idea of where you're going, you'll die. Then that little Skald will be sad, and I'll have betrayed the army for no reason."

Emil locks eyes with him. After a moment, he snatches the bundle of armor and the sword out of Mikkel's hands.

As he pulls the leather armor on, he looks up towards Mikkel and narrows his eyes.

"...You wouldn't happen to know where they're keeping Lalli, would you?"

"I might," Mikkel says, noncommittally.

Emil shrugs his cloak back onto his shoulders and fastens the sword to his belt. After spending so long locked up in a chilly cell with only a cloth tunic, it's nice to be properly clothed once again. But he can't afford to get too comfortable; not with how much is at stake.

He locks eyes with Mikkel again. "Are you going to help me free him?"

"No. This is not my battle to fight. But I can take you into the base, and show you the rest of the way."

"Well... thanks, I suppose," Emil says with a shrug. His hand rests on the hilt of the sword.

He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. He looks out over the prow of the ship, surveying Keuruu for the first time since his capture, and he's struck with a feeling of _deja vu._ He recalls the first time he disembarked from a boat onto these docks. How wild this country had seemed then, the untamed wilderness crowding in on all sides. Now, Keuruu looks completely different: swarming with marching troops, bristling with pikes and the excited clamor of battle. Off in the distance, across the blue horizon, a gray-green haze rises up from the forest, and the smell of burning wood drifts on the wind.

His stomach turns sour. Those were signs of a forest fire; he would know. That meant the burn must have already started. They were out of time.

Behind him, there's a squeaking sound of a poorly-oiled axle. Emil turns, and sees Mikkel pushing a two-wheeled hand cart with a burlap blanket covering its basket. He lifts the blanket, revealing an empty cavity within.

"Are you ready? Get inside," Mikkel says.

Despite the stakes at hand, Emil can't help but pull a face. "You want _me_ to get in _there_?!"

"Naturally," Mikkel tells him. "If I was spotted leading a prisoner into camp unchained, we'd both be caught right away. As it happens though, the place you seek is right near the kitchens. No one will take notice of us this way."

Emil has to admit he has a point. "...Well, okay," he says, and begrudgingly climbs inside the cramped cavity, crouching with his knees beneath his chin. Mikkel quirks the blanket to cover him, and Emil is shrouded in darkness once again, with only a few pinpricks of light filtering down through the fabric.

The cart shifts, and starts to move. It's a bumpy ride, as the irregular wooden wheels trundle across the deck of the boat, and then down the plank to the docks. When the cart hits a particularly steep bump, Emil's teeth clack together painfully and he lets out a cry of protest.

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Quiet," rumbles Mikkel. "Supplies don't talk."

Emil grumbles under his breath, then pulls his knees in closer to his chest and closes his eyes. _Just think of what Lalli would do. Stay still and silent_ , he reminds himself.

His eyes closed, he concentrates on his other senses. The interior of the cart smells musty, like dirt and slightly bad vegetables. The rough burlap tickles his nose, and he has to concentrate to keep himself from sneezing. Outside, he hears voices and distant shouting. As they travel further into Keuruu, the noises grow louder, and Emil begins to hear a steady beat underneath the sound of voices. At first, he thinks it's his heart, but then he realizes it's actually a drum, pounding out a steady rhythm. Like the horn call, it's the sound of war.

His heart answers with a pounding drum beat of its own. _Where were they keeping Lalli? Why wasn't he in the dreamspace last night? What have they done to him since the frost hunter attacked? Will Emil be able to do anything to help, or is he charging into certain doom?_

As Emil is caught in the black spiral of his thoughts, the cart clatters to a stop and he hears voices coming from outside.

"Halt! State your name and the purpose of your delivery," barks a man's voice.

"Mikkel Madsen. I'm bringing raw meat for the roast tonight," replies Mikkel, his voice calm and level.

There's the sound of parchment rustling. "Your delivery isn't listed on the schedule for today."

"Somebody must have made a mistake," Mikkel says with a shrug. "Lots going on today."

The other man clears his throat. "Well, given that you're not on the list, I'm going to have to inspect the contents of your cart." Emil feels his insides turn to ice.

"I wouldn't advise it," Mikkel tells him. "Unless you'd like to risk exposing the entire camp to the black rot, that is."

" _What?!_ "

"It's true," Mikkel says. "Handling raw food without proper hygiene allows foul spirits to enter it. In a strange land like this, it's even more likely than back in Scania. As a medic I've seen it all too often. But if you're willing to face the commander and admit blame for getting our soldiers sick, then I suppose..."

"Ulp! Um, no, I'd rather not..." says the inspector. "As you were."

"Thank you," replies Mikkel, and the cart begins to move once again. Inwardly, Emil is impressed, although he'll never admit it out loud. Something about the smoothness and ease by which Mikkel lies is unsettling, though. If Emil hadn't known better, he'd believe what he said, too.

That uncertainty roils in his gut. How does he know he can trust Mikkel, when he tells lies so easily? Was he telling the truth about taking him to Lalli? Maybe he was simply delivering Emil to a more secure prison somewhere inside the camp. He's on the verge of jumping out from under the burlap canvas and making a run for it when the cart rolls to a stop.

"We're here," Mikkel says. "You can get out now."

Rather than responding right away, Emil pauses and listens. It's quieter, wherever they are; the steady drumbeat of war sounds muffled, and the voices of soldiers have faded. A dim light filters through the gaps in the fabric, telling Emil they're indoors.

Emil lifts up a corner of the burlap and takes a tentative peek outside. He finds himself in another dimly lit room, this one lined with hanging root vegetables, crates filled with hardtack and racks of dried and cured meat. These are the larders, he recognizes with a feeling of relief. So Mikkel _wasn't_ lying about taking him somewhere safe.

There's nobody else in sight, so Emil climbs out of the cart. He looks to Mikkel, who is as stone-faced as ever as he stands in the center of the room with his arms crossed.

"You'll find them outside," Mikkel informs him. "The gathering place is near where the old bonfire pit used to be."

Emil nods, and twitches his cloak around his shoulders. As he motions to leave, though, he feels Mikkel's heavy hand rest on his shoulder.

"Wait," the medic tells him. "You should eat something first. You haven't eaten properly in days."

"What are you--" Emil begins to say, but Mikkel has in his hands a loaf of bread, from which he tears off a piece and offers it to Emil. He eyes the bread, wondering if this is another of Mikkel's easy lies, but just that moment his stomach gives off an audible growl. So he sighs, and takes the bread, chewing and swallowing it quickly. When he's done, he gives Mikkel a curious look.

"You might be the strangest person I've ever met," Emil tells him. "And I know people that are dragons."

In response, Mikkel just shrugs, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a tiny smile.

"Seriously, though, why are you helping me?" Emil asks him again.

Mikkel scratches at his beard, thinking. Then he sighs. "You know I'm a medic. That means I heal people."

"Uh, yeah, I know what a medic does."

Mikkel nods and ignores Emil's sarcasm. "Well, some people are harder to heal than others. And you can't help everyone. I've learned that all too well." There is a look in his eyes that hints of pain and past regrets. "But, you try to heal all that you can." He rests a heavy hand on Emil's shoulder. "And with some people, the best way is to help them help somebody else."

Emil looks up into his stern grey eyes, and suddenly understands. He takes a step towards the door, still facing Mikkel.

"...I think I get it now," he says. "Um, thanks."

"Good luck out there," Mikkel tells him. "After this, we've got an entire country to restore."

Emil pauses for one more moment, looking back at Mikkel, then nods and climbs up the stairs leading outside.

-*-*-*-

A mass of soldiers are gathered near the edge of camp, where the old fire pit used to be. Atop the flame-blackened earth, there is a raised platform constructed of wood, and broad enough across that eight men could stand side by side. The drummer stands atop this dais, pounding out a steady beat on an upturned barrel covered in leather and emblazoned with the army's insignia. Overhead, two towering lit braziers crackle and pop, throwing firelight across the stage even at the pinnacle of day. 

Tucked between two soldiers on the outer edge of the crowd, Emil pulls his hood over his head and tries to keep as low a profile as possible.

A murmur passes through the crowd, and the gathered company of soldiers parts around an armored and cloaked figure that sweeps across the burned clearing and ascends to the stage. The sunlight glints off the four stars set into the shoulders of their plate mail, and the metallic grate that conceals their face.

The Commander gives a salute, and the crowd of soldiers gathered there stand at attention. At the back of the crowd, Emil remembers his training and stands straight, too. Silence falls over Keuruu, with only the pounding of the drum echoing across the camp.

_Boom. Boom. Rat-a-tat._

"Soldiers of the King's Army!" bellows the Commander, their voice ambiguous and hollow-sounding as it echoes out from their metal helmet.

_Boom. Rat-a-tat._

"Today is an auspicious day!"

_Boom. Boom._

"Today, we start our victory march!"

_Rat-a-tat. Boom._

"Today, we begin the Cleansing of the darkness!"

_Boom. Boom. Rat-a-tat._

"We have fought back against the monsters and the rebels."

_Boom. Boom._

"We have suffered losses of our own."

_Rat-a-tat. Boom._

"But now, nothing can stand in our way!"

_Rat-a-tat. Boom. Rat-a-tat._

"We will begin our Cleansing with a ceremony for victory."

_Boom. Boom._

"We shall turn the darkness against itself, and our victory will be ever more assured."

_Rat-a-tat. Rat-a-tat._

"Captain, bring out the traitor!"

There is the sound of rattling chains. The gathered horde parts, murmuring gasps as a bound person is led up to the podium, flanked on all sides by soldiers wearing masks. Emil's heart stutters inside his chest as he recognizes Lalli, with his wrists and neck bound with thick cuffs made out of black material, similar to the shackles Onni had worn. Thick ropes criss-cross his chest and encircle his waist, preventing him from fleeing. He looks haggard, with dirt and dried blood on his face, but his eyes glint out from beneath the fringe of his bangs, silver-bright and filled with rage.

Only the soldier that leads his entourage is unmasked, her crimson hair a blaze of color against the dark steel of her new uniform. Sigrun yanks at the rope, dragging Lalli forward, her violet eyes flat and determined. The crowd of soldiers stands back, giving them a wide berth as the procession comes to a stop just below where the Commander stands.

Sigrun kneels. "My commander. I bring you a former soldier of Keuruu, who was actually a traitorous dragon in disguise."

The commander nods, and gestures that she should stand.

"You have done well, Captain Eide," the commander says. "This monster attacked our camp, slaughtering innocent soldiers with its flame, and then hid its dark deeds behind a human face."

_That's not true!_ Emil thinks. _Lalli never attacked Keuruu. This place was his home!_

"It may appear that we have experienced some... setbacks today," the commander says, gesturing towards the sky. "However, be not discouraged. Our soldiers will find and recapture the Íslandic dragon. But _this_ prize is worth far more than a mere ice wyrm. The dragons of Suomi -- the first dragons -- are more powerful than any others in the world."

As the commander speaks, they descend down from the platform to approach where Lalli is bound. He glares up at the armored figure, snarling as they approach and thrashing against the ropes and shackles that bind him. A thin trickle of blood drips down his wrists from the obsidian cuffs that bind them. The commander towers over him, casting a dark shadow that makes Lalli seem small and mortal in comparison.

With their metal claw-tipped bracers, they seize hold of Lalli's face and force his gaze upwards. Lalli snarls, and tries to bite their hand, but his teeth fail to gain purchase on the thick armor. They drop him, and he sags against his bonds.

"A feral beast, in the false guise of one of our own soldiers," the commander says, hollow voice filled with contempt. "These monsters know no end to their trickery. But we will put a stop to that." The commander gestures to the masked soldiers on either side. "Secure it in place."

The three masked soldiers, as one unit, each pull taut their tether. Then, in a coordinated motion, they walk counterclockwise around their captive, binding him even tighter. Unable to remain standing, Lalli falls to his knees. Once certain that their captive is secured in place, the soldiers stake the end of each rope deep into the earth.

The commander nods. By their side, Sigrun stands, arms crossed and a grim expression on her face.

"Ready the binding glyph," orders the commander.

The three masked soldiers give a salute, and produce from beneath their cloaks three identical bottles of black liquid. They drip the tar-like substance onto the hard-packed earth, drawing a circle with spokes that radiate outwards from the center where Lalli is held, panting as he struggles futilely against his bindings.

Once the glyph has been drawn, the masked soldiers take a step back and stand at attention. The commander steps forward, up to the edge of the circle, and raises their hands again.

"Today, we will claim the power of Suomi's dragons in the name of Scania," they say, voice bellowing out of their armor. "No longer will we live in fear of these beasts. We will burn away the mind of this rebel, and purify its form until we have the perfect tool to carry out our Cleansing."

Fear grips in Emil's chest, as he realizes what the Army plans to do. He remembers the empty, soulless eyes of the frost hunter as it viciously attacked them. _They're going to do to Lalli what they did to Reynir. That's why they haven't killed him. They're trying to turn him into a weapon!_

A soldier approaches from behind the Commander and hands them a lit torch. The commander lowers this torch to the sigil written in tar, which immediately kindles into a flame that burns an unnatural purple-green color. The fire spreads across the binding glyph, encircling Lalli in grim light. He flinches back away from the lashing tongues of flame.

The commander then reaches underneath their cloak and produces a dagger. Its cruelly curved blade appears to be cast in black glass, inlaid with blood-red gemstones that glow from within with sinister light. They hold this dagger aloft, so that it glints in the firelight. Then, they turn to face Sigrun, who stands at the commander's side.

"Captain Eide," the commander says. "You were sent to this country with a mission to eliminate this beast. It is only right that you should be the one to do the honors." They present the dagger to her. 

Sigrun stares at the knife before her. She glances towards Lalli, struggling against his binding. She looks around at the dark ritual, the masked soldiers and the faceless visage of the commander. For a moment, there is a stirring behind her violet eyes. Emil studies her face, his heart thudding in his chest. _Could she be having doubts?_

"This is... an honor, my commander," Sigrun says as she looks down at Lalli's helpless form. "But, might I face the beast in its true shape? I came to this country to slay a dragon. This seems... less noble."

The commander's face is still hidden, but the firelight flickering across their helmet conveys a hint of frustration. "The ritual must be done properly. By spilling the blood of its human form, the dragon's mind shall become bound to ours. With its power, we will cleanse this land of its monsters and build a new kingdom atop its ashes. For the glory of Scania!"

The moment of doubt disappears, and Sigrun's gaze turns steely once again. She reaches out and closes her fingers around the handle of the knife. Emil's stomach plummets like a stone.

She holds the knife above her head. "For the Glory of Scania," she intones.

_"For the Glory of Scania!"_ echoes the surrounding company of soldiers.

Sigrun steps over the outer ring of arcane fire and stands in the inner circle. The crowd is still, save for the steady pounding of the war drum.

"Pity it had to be you," Sigrun says to Lalli, her voice low. "I always thought you were kinda weird, but a capable soldier nonetheless. Now I know that was all just a lie. You slaughtered our men, and then ate at the same table with those who survived. _And_ you took my right-hand man from me. You're even worse than the monsters we fought together."

Lalli glares up at her, with anger and a hint of fear in his eyes. He doesn't say anything, but trembles ever so slightly as Sigrun lowers the point of the knife towards his face.

"Any last words, pipsqueak?" she asks, resting the tip of the knife just below Lalli's chin.

Emil can't take it any longer. His feet are moving before he's even aware of it, indiscriminately elbowing bodies out of the way as he forces his way through the crowd and out into the open.

As he breaks through the crowd and into the empty clearing in the center, he draws his sword from its sheath and leaps over the ring of fire into the center of the circle, yelling at the top of his lungs,

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!!"

Sigrun freezes. So do the gathered soldiers. Even the drummer pauses, and silence falls across Keuruu. 

Lalli jerks his head upwards, eyes wide as he gazes at Emil in surprise and amazement.

The silence is broken by the commander, who gives a roar of fury and points towards Emil. " _You!_ Who do you think you are?!" To either side, the masked soldiers draw their own blades.

Emil takes another step closer to Lalli, holding his sword out in trembling hands.

"I'm nobody important," Emil tells them, voice hoarse after his shout. "But Lalli is. I won't let you hurt him!"

After a moment of surprise, Sigrun regains her composure. She tucks the black dagger into her belt, and draws her zweihander out of its sheath with a sharp sheen of metal. She holds out a hand to the commander and masked soldiers, signaling they should hold off.

"Let me handle him," she tells them, then looks back towards Emil, narrowing her eyes. "This one's my responsibility."

The commander considers this, then after a moment, gives a nod. "So be it," they say. "Deal with the intruder however you please, but make it quick. We have a forest to Cleanse."

Sigrun nods in assent, and steps forward, crossing the tip of her sword with Emil's. Her eyes burn more intensely than Emil's ever seen.

"That was brave, Västerström, I'll give you that," she says, voice low that only Emil can hear. "But remember: you have never beaten me. Don't expect that to change now."

She takes a step towards him; Emil takes a step back, his sword raised in a defensive guard. The flames of the burning glyph beneath their feet flicker and flare. The arena smells like smoke, blood and metal. A mournful howl echoes out of the dark forest that surrounds them. Orange flashes of flame peek out from between the gaps of the trees, from the fire kindled at the heart of the woods. 

"I found something worth dying for," Emil tells her. He glances over at Lalli, still bound in the center of the circle. It's a mistake; Sigrun seizes on his moment of distraction to lunge forwards with her sword. Emil manages to parry her attack, but only just, and the tip of her blade grazes his cheek, opening up a shallow cut just below his eye.

"Good," Sigrun tells him. "Because die you will, like you were supposed to in the first place." She feints, and lunges again; she's so swift that Emil just barely blocks it. "You get it, right? The King never wanted to restore your honor. He gave you an impossible task. The Army was meant to be a death sentence for you!"

Steel clashes against steel as Sigrun's flurry of blows pushes Emil around the ring of fire. It's all that he can do to remain on the defensive, but even so she keeps scoring shallow cuts all over his forearms and legs. A duel to first blood, this was not. 

"I _saved_ you," she tells him as she continues her assault. "I taught you the ways of the warrior! If it weren't for me, you would have died long ago!"

"Are you kidding me?" Emil counters, attempting to strike back where he sees an opening. But Sigrun is too swift, easily predicting Emil's movements and parrying his strikes, before following up with a counterattack of her own that sends him skidding backwards several paces and nearly overbalancing. As he gets back to his feet, he glares back at her. "You kept pushing me into danger! Lalli's the one that saved me. He saved all of us!" 

"That's ridiculous." Sigrun draws near to Emil again, step after step. "That dragon was responsible for slaughtering our men and burning our base to ashes!"

"That wasn't him!" protests Emil, evading her lunging strike. Blood rushes in his ears while his breath heaves through his lungs, the metallic tang of adrenaline on his tongue. "Can't you see this is wrong? Look around you! This -- ritual? Blood sacrifices? This isn't normal!"

A look of confusion passes over Sigrun's face for a split-second, before being replaced by a scowl again. She swings her sword overhead in a heavy strike. Emil is just barely able to deflect the hit from his own sword, although the impact reawakens a flare of pain from his formerly injured elbow.

"I-- I don't need to know everything. I just need to lead my men to victory," she says, her breath heaving with exertion too.

"This won't be a victory," Emil says. "When you're done, there won't be any land worth claiming!" He risks a glance towards the commander, who is watching over their duel from the edge of the fire circle, the uncanny flames reflecting off their metal visor, appearing to warp it into grotesque shapes. Lit in the arcane firelight, they look monstrous instead of human.

" _Lies!_ " roars Sigrun, charging towards Emil. He dodges her blade, but she follows it up with a kick that lands squarely against Emil's solar plexus, sending him sprawling backwards and knocking the breath out of him. She continues, relentless; he rolls to dodge her attack and scrambles to his feet again.

A feeling of dread grips inside his chest. This wasn't going to work. Sigrun was too swift, too well-trained for Emil to ever have a chance of beating her. And even if he manages to win -- then what? There was no indication that Lalli's life would be spared. He needed a better plan.

He casts a glance over to Lalli again, chain bound in the center of the flaming circle. Their eyes lock, and Emil feels something flare up inside him again.

That's right. He's not in this alone, after all.

With a wordless cry, he lunges, not at Sigrun but towards the nearest rope that is holding Lalli in the circle's center. He feels his sword cut through the thick rope, its strands fraying and snapping beneath the sharp edge of his blade as he dives towards the center of the fire circle. As he crosses the innermost ring of fire, something... shifts. He feels the hum of magical energy all around, saturating the air. It feels like he's carrying a pack of heavy stones as he forces his way to Lalli's side.

Lalli looks up at him, eyes glittering. "Emil!"

Emil immediately uses his sword to cut away the ropes that bind Lalli's torso to the ground. Freed from the binding ropes, Lalli is able to get to his feet again. His movements are hindered by the heavy-looking black shackles and chains that still bind his wrists and neck.

"I'm here," Emil says, reaching out to cradle the side of his face with one hand. "How do I free you?"

"The knife," Lalli gasps, and glances towards Sigrun, who is charging towards them through the fire.

Emil has just enough time to raise his sword and block her blade from stabbing directly into his heart. As it is, the tip of her longsword tears through his leather armor and bites into his flesh, sending flecks of Emil's blood scattering onto the blackened ground.

As he recovers from the hint and blinks away the cracking lights of pain from his eyes, he sees the obsidian knife tucked into her belt, and he suddenly understands with perfect clarity what he has to do.

"Sigrun!" he shouts over the fire. "Is this how you honor the people we lost? What would they think if they saw you killing one of your own men? What would Lisbeth think?"

At the name of her former friend, Sigrun visibly falters, her movements stuttering, and Emil sees his opening. He locks his sword between the mid-guard and the hilt of her zweihander and twists, wrenching the longsword out of her hands and sending it flying out of the circle, spiralling end over end and clattering to the ashy earth. 

Disarmed, Sigrun falters, holding up her hands, a disbelieving look on her face. She stares at Emil in shock. "You..."

Emil advances towards her, sword pointed towards her face. "Your knife," he tells her. "Give it here."

She stumbles backwards, scrambling to produce her knife. She grips its handle with both hands and holds it out between herself and Emil, arms trembling.

"Don't come any closer," she warns.

Emil advances, undeterred. "There's still time," he tells her. "You can still do the right thing." He swallows against the lump that forms in his throat. "I don't want to hurt you."

Sigrun keeps holding the knife out. "Västerström... Emil..." Her eyes are conflicted. "What happened to you? When did you become so different?"

Emil takes a deep breath. He glances over at Lalli.

"I found somebody," he says. "That taught me I was more than all my flaws. I'll do anything to protect that. Because I love him," he says, voice rasping hoarsely out of his throat. Lalli's eyes widen.

Sigrun's blade drops a few inches. "You--"

"--Lalli, now!" shouts Emil, interrupting her, and Lalli, freed from his bindings, tackles Sigrun from the side, catching her off-guard and sending the obsidian blade flying out of her hands, skittering across the ground to come to a stop directly at Emil's feet.

"Destroy it!!"

At Lalli's urging, Emil raises his sword and plunges its point directly into the large red gem embedded in the dagger's hilt. A crack runs along the length of the blade, glowing blood-red at the seams before it shatters like glass, scattering shards all across the floor.

Immediately, the magic circle responds. The arcane fire flares up, and then fades to embers before winking out. So too does the obsidian binding around Lalli's face, neck and legs, which shatters along with the dagger, as though it were made of the same fragile black glass.

As the smoke clears, Emil sees the commander, standing by the edge of the circle, seething.

"SEIZE HIM!" the commander bellows, pointing towards Emil, and the three masked soldiers close in, swords drawn.

As they advance towards him, there is a burst of fire from the center of the circle. A shadow passes over Emil's head as Lalli, now in dragon form, unfurls his wings to the air and shakes himself, shedding the last of the iron chains to the ground. He curls his long neck around Emil, and fixes his glowing blue eyes on the commander, snarling protectively.

"I wouldn't try that," Emil says, reaching up to rest a hand on one side of the dragon's furred face. "You might regret it."

In response, the commander shouts an order, and a regiment of archers fires off a volley of arrows. Lalli gives a shriek as one of the arrows sticks in his back, and he lashes his tail out at the soldiers encroaching on them from all sides.

They need to escape, _now._ Emil throws his arms around the base of Lalli's neck. "Can you fly?"

[[I THINK SO. HOLD ON TO ME,]] Lalli says, giving his wings an experimental flap. The wave of wind knocks several soldiers off their feet. As quickly as the soldiers are dispatched, more rush to fill their place. An arrow carrying a rope sails over Lalli's head and embeds itself in the ground on the far side, pinning him down. Emil reaches up to sever the rope with his sword with one hand, the other hand knotted tightly in the fur of Lalli's chest.

With a flurry of wingbeats, Lalli lifts up to hover just above mass of soldiers, lifting Emil along with him, his body hanging from where he grips to the base of the dragon's neck. His wing flaps are labored and irregular, dragged down with the fatigue of several days' starvation and untreated wounds. The dragon's panting breath shudders within his chest, his oversized heart pounding against where Emil's head rests. As they hover there, sagging in range of the grasping hands and waving swords of the army, more ropes fly to try and bind them down again.

Emil recognizes Lalli's pain, and has a sinking feeling: _This isn't going to work_. The dragon won't be able to fly with both of them in the state he's in. Emil is holding him back.

He thinks of Tuuri's advice: _Hold tight and don't let go._ Then he looks at the dragon struggling to stay airborne, and he knows what he has to do.

"Fly, Lalli," Emil tells him, and lets go of the dragon's neck.

[[EMIL!!]] Lalli shouts, as Emil drops into the horde of soldiers below.

To Emil, the world starts to move in slow motion.

He lands on the ashen ground with a thud. Up above, the dragon rises up out of range of the waving spears, but continues to hover and turn circles in midair, unwilling to leave Emil.

Armored hands grab his shoulders, hauling Emil's body upright. He finds himself staring into the violet eyes of his former captain, which burn with emotion.

"Emil--" Sigrun starts to say.

Then there is a piercing pain in his back and lower gut. Emil looks down and sees the sharp point of a blade sticking out from the fabric of his tunic. His mind immediately goes blank.

" _Die, traitor,_ " echoes the hollow voice of the commander, as they wrench their sword out of Emil's back.

Hot liquid drips down his body and onto the ground. In front of his face, Sigrun's expression turns to one of shock and horror.

Emil's knees buckle, and his body drops to the ashy earth. His vision swims before his eyes, as blood pools out of the wound in his gut.

From then, it becomes difficult to tell reality from hallucination.

A resounding howl echoes across the camp, drowning out the clamor of battle. The dark pine trees rustle and crack as they are shoved aside by a gargantuan arm. A gaunt, distorted face looms into the sky over Keuruu.

The giant howls again, and this time its cry is answered by a chorus of roars and snarls, as hundreds of gnarled, dark shapes emerge from between the trees and descend on the camp. The soldiers yell and clash with the evil creatures that pour into Keuruu in droves.

Directly up above, The silver dragon is joined by two more winged silhouettes in the smoke-choked sky. These winged forms appear to grow larger as they descend on Keuruu. The air is filled with sparking embers and shards of ice that rain down from overhead, sending soldiers scurrying away from where Emil lies.

The large, blurry form of a white dragon lands on the ground beside Emil, sending shockwaves through the earth.

[[ _Did I do good?_ ]] asks the large white dragon.

The indistinct shape of a person leaps off its back and rushes to Emil's side.

"Emil! What's happened to-- oh my Gods! You're bleeding!" exclaims Tuuri, covering her mouth in shock as she sees the state he is in.

_Tuuri? What was Tuuri doing here?_

"Tol' you t' leave," Emil mutters through lips that can barely move.

Tuuri kneels at his side. "We came back," she tells him. "We weren't gonna leave you behind."

Emil feels a warm wind ruffle through his hair as another winged shape alights beside him, Through the muddled haze, Emil can make out the blue glow of Lalli's dragon eyes.

Tuuri wastes no time; she tears off a strip of fabric from her own cloak and presses it over the wound. "Hang in there, Emil. Onni and the monsters have got them distracted," she says, and lifts his body up, propping him against something warm and soft. "We're going to get you out of here. Just stay with me, all right?"

The world around him is starting to grow cold. It becomes more and more difficult to tell what's going on. Emil feels arms moving his body, but the pain makes it difficult to concentrate as blood continues to drip out of the wound in his gut. His eyelids droop, leaden, until they shut off the chaos of the outside world.

Emil feels himself slip into a warm, dark pool of nothingness, where everything is quiet, save for the beating of his own heart:

_Boom-boom._

_Boom-boom._

_Boom-boom._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for reading.
> 
> This story's drawing to a close. Next (and second-to-last) chapter comes in 2 weeks.


	15. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Emil struggles on the boundary of life and death, Tuuri tries to keep everything from falling apart. Lalli prepares a spell.

-*-*-*-

_Emil finds himself adrift in a sea of flames._

_At first, all he can see are shifting colors, reds and oranges dancing across his blurry vision. Waves of heat wash over him, yet dulled somewhat, as though through muffled by thick furs. He tries to concentrate, until the images before his eyes turn into something more recognizable._

_As he focuses, the image resolves itself further, and he realizes where he is. He's in the parlor room of the Västerström estate again, with its pillow-laden couches and long table spread with an extravagant feast. But this time it's different: the room around him is ablaze. Fire crackles through the wooden beams of the ceiling and up the walls. The feast atop the table is a crisped black husk, the silver cutlery melting and running down the carvings on the dining table._

_Amid all of this fiery destruction, Emil sits in a sphere of calm and watches his family home burn around him. He reaches out an arm towards the towering tongues of flame, and feels them tickle at his fingertips, playfully nipping at him like a teething pup. Distantly, he wonders why putting his hand in the fire doesn't hurt, but as he turns his hand upwards to look at it, he realizes why. Glowing embers crackle through the veins beneath his skin, and candle lights burn within his eyes. His very essence has become fire, and fire cannot burn itself._

_He is vaguely aware that he should be in a lot of pain right now. But none of that pain materializes. Instead, he feels weightless, numb to all sensation as he drifts through the strange, burning world._

_He looks around himself for an exit, but the door that leads outside is gone, burned up along with his family inside their beds. He supposes he should feel alarmed, but it's hard to feel badly about anything when he's surrounded with this much beauty. The landscape seethes with shifting waves of fire in colors that he's never seen in fire before: violet and black and aquamarine, with hot red highlights that crackle out of the heart of it. The flames feast on the house, growing brighter and more splendid the more they consume._

_After some time, he figures it out: the fire is feeding on_ him _. This hellscape is what's become of his dream space. It's burning with Emil trapped inside._

_Can he ever leave? Does he even want to?_

-*-*-*-

"This doesn't look good. He's burning up," says Tuuri.

Rain cascades down in sheets just outside the cave entrance. Tuuri kneels beside Emil's unconscious body, one hand rested across his forehead. Beneath her steady hand, Emil looks pale and is coated with a glossy sheen of sweat. Already, the fresh bandage around his midsection is beginning to stain from the wound in his gut, despite their best attempts to stop the bleeding. He breathes, but only barely.

Emil lies on a bed of fur rugs, encircled protectively within the paws of the silver dragon, who hasn't left his side since they arrived back in their home cave, haggard and exhausted from their frenzied escape from the Army’s clutches. Lalli is asleep as well, breathing out wisps of smoke. His wounds are less pronounced, his condition far less dire than Emil’s, but Tuuri keeps a watchful eye on both of them all the same.

The cave on the mountain's peak is in a state of complete disarray; Tuuri has ransacked it for any materials suitable for treating a severely injured person. Ceramic pots are filled with water and poultices; textiles have been shredded into bandages. A fire burns in the brazier, with a metal pot suspended over the top, filled with hot water Tuuri is using to make a medicinal tea. The cave reeks of herbs and blood, with hardly enough space to move around due to the three large dragons that are sharing the limited room.

[[ _Do you need more ice water?_ ]] asks Reyir from where he's tucked into a corner, trying to make himself as small as possible. Now he lifts his long neck to look on with worried emerald-green eyes. [[ _I could freeze some more for you._ ]]

Tuuri nearly snaps at him to _leave her alone already,_ but bites back the words before they spill out. They're all on edge and she doesn't need to make the frost dragon feel any worse than he already does. "That's all right, Reynir, thank you," she says. "Why don't you gather some more herbs for us? We're running low on sundew for tea."

Excited to have something to do, Reynir leaps to his feet, his wagging tail accidentally knocking over a pot filled with water in the process. [[ _Oops,_ ]] he says when he realizes. [[ _Sorry. I'll fix it!_ ]]

[[Just go,]] rumbles Onni from his favorite perch. [[And feel free to take your time coming back.]]

Taking the hint, Reynir slinks out of the cave, head down and tail dragging on the ground as he steps out into the sheeting rain. As the sound of his wing beats echoes in from outside, Tuuri frowns at Onni.

"You don't have to be so harsh on him, you know. He's new to this."

[[I don't remember agreeing to take in any stray pups,]] Onni replies.

"You mean, besides Emil and Lalli?"

The gray dragon huffs. [[They're different. Lalli is family,]] he says. [[And Emil...]] His orange gaze slides to Emil's feverish form. [[Emil is fine. He can stay.]] Left unspoken were the words _if he lives_.

"C'mon, you can admit that you like having him around," Tuuri says, a teasing note in her voice.

Onni grumbles, but doesn't object outright. [[He does make Lalli happy. For our cousin's sake, I hope he doesn't die.]]

Tuuri smiles. "There you go, you grumpy old dragon."

[[I'm not old.]]

"Then quit acting like such a geezer! You're really just like grandma Ensi, you know," she retorts, before realizing what she'd just said.

Onni's eyes widen, and there's a moment of tense silence. Then he relaxes, although he still looks annoyed. He looks at where Lalli and Emil are curled together. [[I wonder what Ensi would think if she knew her apprentice has fallen for a human. A foreigner, at that. One of the enemy.]]

"Emil's not the enemy. Not any more," Tuuri reminds him. "It's thanks to him that we have Lalli back. Lalli says he fought a sword duel to save his life." She casts a worried glance down to Emil's comatose form. "The least we can do is try to save Emil in return."

[[That wound is quite grave,]] Onni observes. [[And he is only a human. They have been known to die from far less. It will be a miracle if he survives.]]

"Hey, lighten up, will you?" Tuuri pouts at him. "And do I need to remind you that _your sister_ is only human too? We're not _that_ fragile!" She looks down at Emil again. "He stood up to an entire army in order to save Lalli. I know Emil can beat this, too."

[[I'm just being realistic. The world is a harsh place, full of death and loss. You know as well as I do, Tuuri.]]

"I do! Which is why I'm trying to make things _better_ ." Tuuri shakes her head. "Now _you're_ getting on my nerves, too. Why don't you go patrol the mountainside again to make sure we weren't followed by any soldiers or monsters?"

Onni snorts, spewing tiny embers from his snout, and gets up onto his clawed feet. He moves to the entrance of the cave, and pauses on its threshold. [[After everything, you still have that kindness in you, Tuuri. Like our parents had,]] he says. [[I envy you that.]]

He leaves, winging off to patrol the territory again, and Tuuri is left alone with the sleeping boy and dragon, while the rain pours down outside.

She sighs, and gently lays a soaked cloth over Emil's forehead. Gods willing, she can make a difference. There is nothing she can do but try.

-*-*-*-

_As Emil drifts within the flames, he comes to a realization about his fate._

_He's dying. It makes sense once he figures it out. Whatever had been done to his body in the waking world was causing it to destroy itself from the inside out. He's glad he's unconscious for this. It means he can walk through the flames without feeling their bite. Here, he's shielded from any sort of pain or agony his body might be experiencing in the waking world._

_He watches his family home tear itself apart from within, and instead of feeling dread at his impending demise, he feels... fulfilled. This was how it was always supposed to go, after all. He can never undo the wrong he did, so the next best thing is for him to perish along with the rest of the Västerström family._

_No, Emil is content. Happy, finally. This flickering landscape is where he belongs. When it sputters out, so will he._

_He sits back, stares into the flame, and waits for the world to end._

-*-*-*-

"Why isn't he getting better?"

Four days since their return to the mountaintop, and Emil's condition hasn't improved much. They've managed to stop the bleeding, and applied some stitches to the wound. Tuuri's no medic, though, so there's sure to be a nasty scar on his back and stomach, even after the wound heals.

Lalli, now in human form, still refuses to leave Emil's side. He's injured, too, with his arm in a sling and bandages over the arrow-wounds on his back, but that doesn't mean he's content with sitting around. He paces round and round the small cavern, radiating nervous energy as he alternates between praying and pestering Tuuri for updates on Emil's condition.

"I can't find his dream space any more, no matter how hard I search. I used to find it without trying," Lalli says, his voice sounding strained. 

"Maybe he's hiding, because he doesn't want you to see him when he's injured like this?" Tuuri guesses. Most of this mage stuff is beyond her grasp, but she wants to help calm Lalli's nerves a bit, however she can.

Lalli shakes his head. "That's not it. Something is wrong," he says. "I keep reciting _runo_ , but nothing seems to be changing. Do you think the Gods are listening? Do they even care about foreigners?"

"Like I know!" she fires back in _suomi_. "I can't speak for the gods, Lalli. I'm sure they're doing all they can, it's just... he got stabbed through with a sword! That's a lot, even for the gods!"

"He _saved_ me," Lalli says, as though he can hardly believe it himself. He falls silent, pausing in his pacing while he stands beside Emil. He looks over him with an expression that mingles fear, concern and devotion -- the latter of which an expression so unusual on her cousin's face that Tuuri is taken aback.

As Lalli kneels by Emil's bedside, hands clasped together in prayer, Tuuri heaves a tired sigh. She hasn't been sleeping well lately. Not only has she been busy tending to Emil, and cooking food for herself and the three dragons, but when she does sleep, she's been having strange dreams.

She didn't used to dream much at all, but lately she keeps finding herself falling asleep and waking up by that serene grassy brook with all the sheep, Reynir's dreamspace. Occasionally, Reynir is there, and she finds herself talking to him more and more. It's a nice reprieve from Onni's gloomy pessimism and Lalli's frantic pacing. They don't have much in common to talk about, since Reynir still doesn't remember most of his time with the Army, but they swap stories of their childhoods. Reynir speaks of his growing up as a shepherd in ĺsland as though his life had been nothing but dull, but Tuuri finds it fascinating. It's a source of happiness for her to imagine a world beyond the war-torn and monster-infested place that her homeland has become.

It doesn't hurt that Reynir's human form isn't bad to look at, either. But that thought is neither here nor there, and Tuuri has enough to worry about already without trying to woo an amnesiac puppy-dragon-mage on top of everything else.

No, what Tuuri really needs is another capable pair of hands. She's making do with what she knows of battlefield medicine, but she's only read about it in books; none of her experience is practical, and Emil's wounds are so severe that she constantly feels like she's out of her depth. The dragons, for all their varying levels of eagerness to help, aren't particularly useful here, although Reynir will fetch her anything she asks for with great enthusiasm. (Even if he often brings back the wrong thing. The point is, he tries.) Lalli just spends hours combing his fingers through Emil's golden hair, and Onni is no fun to talk to at all when he constantly goes on about death and destruction of everything under the sun.

Just as she's thinking about him, she hears the sound of muffled wingbeats that she recognizes as Onni returning home. The three dragons have different sounds: Reynir is the loudest, his broad white wings thundering through the air with every flap, and his arrival is always accompanied by a gust of frosty air. Lalli is swift, and quiet with his padded paws, although he hasn't done much flying since he refuses to leave Emil's side. Onni's flight is muffled by the thick fluffy fur around his wings, but Tuuri recognizes the _clack_ of his sharp talons on the rocky plateau, as he pokes his head inside of the cave.

[[I've spotted an intruder climbing up the mountain,]] he tells her, expression serious as ever.

Tuuri looks up from where she's got bloody rags soaking in a basin of warm water and soap. "Someone on the mountain? Is it a soldier or a monster?"

[[It's a human. They appear to be unarmed. They seem to be accompanied by some sort of... small, furry creature, however,]] Onni says. He ruffles his wings. [[I shall go and deal with them, so don't trouble yourself any further. I simply wanted to notify you of the situation.]] He motions to leave the cave, but Tuuri reaches out and grabs a fistful of fur in his tail.

"Hold on, Onni! Remember what happened the last time you tried to 'deal with' a human that came here?" She crosses her arms, frowning, and gestures between Onni and Emil, as if to say, _you both almost died._

Onni looks down at the unconscious Emil, and back at Tuuri. He sighs, exhaling smoke. [[It... could have gone better last time,]] he concedes.

" _I'll_ go and see who it is and what they have to say," says Tuuri.  " _You_ stay here and keep an eye on Emil and Lalli. Understood?"

[[Then who will protect you?]] Onni stands in the cave entrance, looking menacing and barring Tuuri from leaving. [[You're taking an unnecessary risk, trying to engage with someone who might be one of the enemy. I won't allow it.]]

"Onni, you can't just carry me away every time you think I might be in danger. I'm not some damsel in distress! I can handle myself, thank you very much!"  Tuuri tells him. When her words produce no discernible change in the gray dragon's demeanor, she sighs, and tries a different approach. "Look," she reasons. "I know that you're worried. But you said this person is unarmed, right? If that's the case, then they clearly aren't here looking for a fight."

Onni lashes his tail in displeasure. [[At least take Reynir with you, then,]] he says begrudgingly. [[Where is that whelp, anyway?]]

"I sent him to the lake to go catch fish for our dinner," Tuuri says. "He won't be back for a while yet. But seriously, I'll be _fine_ , I got by just fine for years before you..." she trails off, peering around Onni's mass and out of the cave entrance, onto the plateau. She squints against the bright sunlight at the human figure that has appeared there. Despite appearing only as a silhouette against the long, golden rays of the setting sun, their identity is obvious, even at a distance.

"...Mikkel? Is that you?!" Tuuri exclaims in disbelief.

The large human silhouette pauses, then raises one arm to wave in greeting. Tuuri takes the moment to slip past Onni's protective blockade, ignoring the gray dragon's protests as she runs out onto the plateau.

Sure enough, the person standing there is Mikkel Madsen, wearing a large travel pack over his shoulder, looking only slightly worse for wear after what was certainly several days' journey from Keuruu.

What at first appears to be a fur scarf around his neck uncurls and yawns widely, as Tuuri recognizes the orange-and-white kitty that lived in their barracks. The cat hops down from Mikkel's broad shoulders onto the plateau, and starts grooming itself without a care in the world.

Mikkel somewhat awkwardly regards Tuuri and the large gray dragon that glowers over her shoulder. "Hello, Tuuri," he says, a corner of his mouth quirked up in a partial smile.

"Mikkel! What are you _doing_ here?!" Tuuri asks, dumbfounded.

Onni narrows his eyes. [[Yes, what _is_ he doing here?]]

Mikkel shrugs. "Well, it's not like my services are needed at Keuruu anymore. I mean, I don't have any prisoners left to guard, for one thing. And seeing as you lot escaped while I was supposed to be watching over you... well, it wasn't difficult to figure out who to pin the blame on, even for them."

Tuuri approaches him, still shaking her head in disbelief. "I still don't understand," she says. "How did you even _find_ us here?"

"Mm, it's sort of a strange story, actually," he says, scratching his sideburns thoughtfully. "You see, the night after you all cleared out, I had an unusual dream. Never seen anything like it before in my life. Something in that dream told me I should make my way out here, showed me exactly the way to go."  He shrugs. "I know, it sounds crazy..."

Immediately, Tuuri runs up to him and embraces him. He's so tall and broad that she can barely get her arms around his waist, but she does so anyway. She finds herself laughing, tears of joy leaking out as she presses her face into his dirty jacket. Their prayers -- Tuuri's, Lalli's, or whoever's -- had been heard, and the Gods had sent someone in answer.

" _Thank you_ ," Tuuri says. "I'm so glad to see you here."

"Ah... well." He pats a heavy hand on Tuuri's shoulder, holding her while she leaks grateful tears onto his tunic. "I like to go wherever I can be useful. And maybe get something decent to eat."

Tuuri pulls back, wipes the tears off her cheeks. She takes a deep breath, and glances down. "...And the cat?"

Mikkel gives a low chuckle. "Keuruu's no place for a cat these days," he says. "The new forces brought in these big black dogs... well, anyway, she's good at noticing monsters, and surprisingly self-sufficient. Sorta reminds me of your little cousin, actually." He looks up. "Speaking of, where are Lalli and Emil?"

Tuuri's expression turns grave. "You'd better come inside," she tells Mikkel, and beckons him into the cave. Onni lets them pass, regarding Mikkel with a suspicious eye.

Inside, Lalli is just as shocked to see Mikkel as Tuuri was. After a series of awkwardly-worded explanations -- Mikkel's accent being too thick for Lalli to comprehend with his somewhat limited grasp of Scanian, so Tuuri steps in to translate to _suomi_ for him -- Lalli seems to understand. He reluctantly stands back to allow Mikkel to examine Emil's unconscious form.

From the corner of the cave, Onni regards Mikkel with a wary orange eye. If having a massive dragon watching him bothers Mikkel at all, he doesn't show it.

As Mikkel is still examining Emil's body, the loud slap of wingbeats and the cool breeze blowing in from the mouth of the cave signals the return of Reynir from his hunting trip. He enters the cave, several partially-frozen dead rabbits dangling from his jaws.

[[ _Hi, Tuuri, I'm back!_ _I know you said you wanted fish for dinner, but as I was headed to the lake, I spotted some rabbits running through the woods, and they were really fun to chase, so I caught a whole bunch of them and I hope that's okay, and--_ ]] He pauses mid-sentence as he finally notices Mikkel, as well as the cat, who has sashayed into the cave and found a comfortable spot to curl up on top of some furs. Reynir opens his jaw, the dead rabbits dropping to the cave floor with a thud. [[ _Hey, isn't that the jail keys guy from before? What's he doing here?_ ]]

Mikkel stands up, and nods in greeting. "Mikkel Madsen. Pleased to meet you," he said. "And you must be the Army's ice dragon."

[[ _Not anymore, I'm free now!_ ]] Reynir says. [[ _My name's Reynir!_ ]]

"Well, Reynir, it's good to make your acquaintance," Mikkel says. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go back to treating our friend Emil here."

"Mikkel's a medic," Tuuri explains to Reynir as she goes to pick up the rabbits.

" _Allegedly,_ " mutters Lalli in _suomi_. He's retreated to lean against a far wall of the cave, still not taking his eyes off Emil as Mikkel examines him.

"Hey, now," Tuuri says, also in _suomi_ , and tosses him a rabbit to skin for their dinner. "You know he's got way more experience at treating injuries than I do. He could be the answer to your question from before." She looks towards Lalli meaningfully.

[[ _You know, it's kind of weird that I can understand your language when I'm a dragon, but not when I'm a human,_ ]] says Reynir. [[ _Do you suppose it's because of the magic?_ ]]

"Yes, probably magic," Tuuri says offhandedly, not particularly interested in a discussion of dragon linguistics at the moment, although she mentally reserves that question for future study. "Now, can you change back to a human and help us with these rabbits?"

[[ _Okay..._ ]] Reynir sounds a little put-out as he tucks his wings into his body. The snowflake-like symbols on his wings glow bright blue, followed by the rest of him, and then his large shape condenses down into a smaller form. The glow disappears, and he stretches out his lanky arms and legs, grinning. Out of the corner of her eye, Tuuri spots Mikkel staring, distracted by the sight of the transformation. Well, she can understand his reaction; it was only just over a month ago that Tuuri saw that same thing for the first time, herself.

Reynir comes to sit next to Tuuri beside the fire. "Hey, Tuuri..." he begins to ask, while using a knife to thoroughly mangle his rabbit in the process of trying to skin it. "Why doesn't Onni change back into a person like me and Lalli do sometimes? He was human when I met him."

[[I can hear you, whelp,]] rumbles Onni from his corner of the cave, which causes Reynir to jump, startled. [[You would be well advised to mind your own business.]]

Tuuri smiles, and rolls her eyes. "Don't mind him," she tells Reynir. "He's just always grumpy." She eyes the sorry state that Reynir's rabbit is in, and concludes that they'll be having stew that night. She lowers her voice further. "Onni's been in dragon form for more than a decade. I suppose he's just more comfortable that way."

"Yeah, but..." Reynir scratches his face, getting rabbit blood on his chin. "I was stuck as a dragon for years, too. But I can change back and forth, no problem." He stretches out a long, freckled arm and examines his hands, wiggling them experimentally. "See, look! I've got fingers now!"

"People are different, Reynir," Tuuri tells him, as patiently as she can manage. Reynir seems to take the hint, and returns to silently butchering his rabbit. A short while later however, and a thought occurs to Tuuri. She leans in close to Reynir and drops her voice to a near-whisper. "You might be onto something, though," she tells him. "I don't think Onni speaks Scanian very well. He might stay in dragon form so that he can understand us better."

"Oh! That makes sense!" Reynir says, at full volume. When everybody else in the cave turns to look at him, he sheepishly lowers his head and returns to his work.

Some time passes, and finally Mikkel stands up from examining Emil and clears his throat.

"I've seen enough," he announces.

Instantly all eyes are on him. Fear grips Tuuri's gut, and from his corner she sees Lalli staring, his brow creased in concern.

"...And? How is he?" Tuuri asks, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible so as not to reveal her fear.

Mikkel's expression is grave. "Not good," he tells them. "The fact that he has survived this long is remarkable. The stab wound may have missed his vital organs, but he's lost a lot of blood and his body isn't healing as it should. It's possible that the wound has become infected from the inside." He shakes his head. "The state he is in now, it's not clear he will pull through."

Tuuri's gut drops like a stone; Lalli visibly pales. This was the worst possible outcome.

"Is there anything that can help him?!" Tuuri's voice cracks despite her attempts to keep it steady.

Mikkel scratches at his sideburns. "I'm not sure, honestly," he says. "But if you have any moldy food, there's a medicine I can prepare for him that helps fight infection."

"Medicine made from _moldy food_?!" Reynir exclaims, looking upset. "Won't that just make it worse?"

Mikkel shrugs. "Perhaps," he says. He looks down at Emil's body, which seems far more frail and fragile than it ever has before. "But if I'm being honest... as it is, he's probably not going to get better."

Abruptly, Lalli stands up. He crosses the floor rapidly in lanky strides until he is face-to-face with Mikkel. He seems short beside the towering medic; yet he stands strong, spine straight, meeting Mikkel's gaze with his own. His silver eyes blaze with blue light.

"I can heal him," says Lalli.

[[You shall not,]] says Onni abruptly. The large gray dragon gets to his clawed feet and cranes his neck towards them. [[Healing magic means that the caster receives the victim's pain.]] His orange gaze burns into Lalli's. [[Trying to save him could kill you both. I won't allow it.]]

"I don't care." Lalli stands resolute. "I need him."

"Hang on, Onni," says Reynir, who stands up too. "Lalli's not the only mage here. I can help, too."

[[You...]] the gray dragon turns his gaze. [[You are an inexperienced pup. Your recklessness could do more harm than good.]]

"So why don't _you_ help, then?!" retorts Reynir. "If _you're_ so experienced!"

Silence rings through the cave for a moment as Onni, eyes wide, seems stunned by Reynir's outburst. His eyes flick down to Emil's form on the ground.

[[I...]] the gray dragon appears conflicted.

"You don't want Emil to die, do you?" Reynir places his hands on his hips. "I'll admit I don't know him that well... or you. But I know what he did." He points to Lalli and Emil. "He saved Lalli, just like how Tuuri saved me. You are Lalli's family, aren't you? Which means you're Emil's family, too."

[[You do not know your place, whelp,]] Onni says with a snarl.

"I know enough. I know that I'd do _anything_ to help Tuuri after what she did for me!"

Tuuri looks up at that, mouth falling open in a gasp. "Reynir..."

Reynir then abruptly turns to face Lalli, whipping his long red braid across his back. "I'll do it," he says. "No matter what Onni says. I'll help you heal Emil."

Lalli gives him a long look, and then nods. He approaches Emil's bedside and kneels at his head, closing his eyes and placing his hands on either side of Emil's sleeping face. He takes a deep breath.

[[WAIT!]]

Onni's mental shout resonates through everybody's minds. Mikkel, unaccustomed to hearing the speech of dragons, flinches and looks to Tuuri in confusion. The gray dragon takes a step forward and unfurls his wings, filling up nearly all of the empty space in the cave.

Onni looks annoyed, yet at the same time resigned. [[...I will help you,]] he says, begrudgingly. [[Although I still believe that staking the fate of Suomi on saving the life of one foreigner is profoundly foolish.]]

Reynir's serious expression breaks into a huge grin. "See! I knew you'd change your mind eventually."

Lalli doesn't reply, but he opens his eyes and looks up at Onni with a look of gratitude.

[[Do not make me regret this,]] Onni warns. He fixes Lalli with an ember-orange stare. [[Lalli. If you truly intend to risk your life for this man, we need to do things properly. There are certain spells and materials which will make the healing ritual more successful. It will take some time to prepare.]] His gaze slides to Reynir. [[Perhaps your... foreign magic may also be of use.]]

"Uh, I don't know much really, but... yes!" Reynir says. "I'll do whatever it takes!"

As the dragons discuss the details of the healing spell, Tuuri turns to Mikkel. "While they're doing that, I'll prepare us all some dinner," she says. "Do you need anything?"

"Not at the moment," Mikkel says with a shrug. "Although this all is a bit beyond what my medical knowledge covers. I'm not sure I want to interfere with this... magic ritual your friends are planning."

Tuuri shakes her head. "That's not it. I think you were brought here for a reason, Mikkel." She looks towards where Lalli is knelt beside Emil. "The healing spell may restore Emil's spirit, but it won't take if his body is too far gone. So you can make sure he doesn't die in the process."

"I'll do my best."

Tuuri hands him a dead rabbit. "If you don't have anything else going on, you could maybe help me with dinner? Although..." her gaze slides down to the floor as she remembers some of the inedible meals Mikkel prepared for them in the past. A wave of nausea rises in her throat, and she takes the rabbit back. "On second thought, maybe you'd better rest up and leave the cooking to me."

Mikkel chuckles, deep and low. "If you say so, Tuuri."

Time passes, and the sun sinks below the horizon into nighttime as the dragons ready the materials for the healing spell. Onni teaches Lalli a particular _runo_ to ask the gods for help curing illness and restoring life. Reynir procures a piece of charcoal from the firepit, and uses it to draw a sigil encircling Emil, which he claims was used by the old healer woman from his Íslandic village to heal sick sheep. In the corner, Mikkel naps on some furs, his journey up the mountainside having tired him more than he let on at first. Tuuri chops up root vegetables and throws them into the stew, along with shredded rabbit and bone broth and some herbs, until the chewy roots have softened and a nourishing aroma fills the cave.

Once the stew is ready, Tuuri informs everybody, and they break from their tasks to eat dinner. Mikkel rouses from his nap, dislodging the kitty from where she slept curled-up on his chest. She gives a mewl of displeasure at being dumped on the floor, and trots off to a corner of the cave to groom herself. Mikkel accepts his helping of stew with a nod of gratitude. Onni instructs his fellow mages to eat well so that they will be strong for the healing. While Reynir digs in to his meal eagerly, Lalli seems pickier than usual, his palpable anxiety making him too nervous to eat.

Instead, he sits cross-legged beside Emil, cradling the other boy's head in his lap while he attempts to feed him spoonfuls of broth. Distracted, Tuuri watches in fascination. She's never seen such an expression on her cousin's face, nor known him to be capable of such gentleness. When a trickle of broth escapes from Emil's mouth and runs down his chin, Lalli frowns, and carefully tilts his head upright to help him swallow. His slender fingers run through Emil's dark golden hair

Watching the two of them, Tuuri is reminded of something she read in her scrolls, something about the source of a dragon's magic, but her thoughts are too muddled with exhaustion to convey it with words. Nevertheless, she is struck with the certainty that saving Emil's is more important than any of them can possibly know.

There is a scraping of claws against stone as Onni gets to his feet. [[There is no sense in delaying any further. The healing spell is ready, and it will take all night to cast,]] he says. He looks to Lalli and Reynir. [[You two. You will need to be in your dragon shapes for this.]]

Lalli nods, gently sets down Emil's head from his lap, and takes a step back to the outside of the magic sigil. His shape glows and changes, unfurling silver wings from his back as he assumes dragon form. Reynir takes a step back from Tuuri, and with an explosion of light and a blast of freezing air, the white dragon shakes his fluffy orange mane and looks at Tuuri with a smile on his wolf-like snout.

With all three mages in dragon form, the cave feels a lot more cramped than it did moments ago. Tuuri shuffles to the side of the cave awkwardly, and comes to sit beside Mikkel.

"We should let them do their thing," she tells him. "I'll just clean up, and wash some fresh bandages for Emil, and then--"

"Tuuri," Mikkel says, his voice a low rumble. "You should rest. Let me take care of things for a while."

She falters. "Are you sure?"

Mikkel nods. "I came here to help. Frankly, you look like you could use a break." He waves a hand vaguely at her face. Tuuri hasn't seen a mirror in weeks, but even without it she knows how haggard she must look. She sighs, which turns into an involuntary yawn.

"...Okay," she says, taking a seat on the fur bed. The cat approaches her and immediately jumps up onto her lap, curling into a ball and purring softly. She looks over at the three dragons, who are standing around the magic circle in the center of the cave. At Onni's instructions, they each outstretch their wings, touching wingtip to wingtip with their heads bowed over the prone form of the human in the center. There is a hum of magical energy that begins to fill the space, and the distant sounds of chanting _runo_ echoing in the back of her mind.

If she can forget for a moment the life-or-death stakes they find themselves in, it's almost relaxing. She lets her eyes slide shut and her mind to slowly drift away.

-*-*-*-

_Crossing from the waking world into the world of dreams is so familiar to Lalli as to be nearly automatic by now. The difference is doing it with two other mages, his hands joined with Onni and Reynir's as they cross the misty barrier. The world resolves itself into the familiar shape of his dreamscape: a serene forested marsh decorated with lily pads, criss-crossed by boardwalks. They appear on the hexagonal platform in the center, hands joined, in their human shapes. Their eyes open simultaneously, and Reynir's immediately go wide as he looks around himself in awe._

_Lalli can't help but feel slightly annoyed at the other two mages making themselves comfortable in his dreamspace. He looks up at Onni, who appears uneasy in his human form._

_"Why are we here?" he asks Onni, gesturing at his dreamspace and towards Reynir, who is still staring at his surroundings, his mouth hanging open like a particularly guileless fish._

_Onni crosses his arms and regards him sternly. "You have the closest bond to Emil. We will have a better chance of locating him if we start from here."_

_"I told you, I haven't been able to find him, no matter how hard I look!" Lalli snaps at him. If they can't find where Emil's soul resides, then they definitely won't be able to heal him._

_"Hey, what's that over there?" Reynir says, pointing. Lalli follows the direction he indicates and sees for the first time a pathway made up of logs lying an inch below the water. The path winds off through the trees into the distance. Where it disappears into the mist, a faint orange glow stains the sky._

_Onni nods. "This may work."_

_"...That wasn't there before," Lalli says, regarding Reynir with a look of confusion. "How did you do that?"_

_Reynir looks thoughtful. "I dunno. I guess finding things is sort of my specialty? I mean, I was able to locate both of you easily, back when I was with the Army. Of course, that might be because you both are dragons, too..." He shrugs. "Anyway, I've got a good feeling we should go this way."_

_They set off down the path with Reynir in the lead and Onni bringing up the rear. Lalli, still bothered by having the other mages in his dreamspace, keeps his eyes down towards his feet as they splash through the shallow water. As their path winds through the misty forest, he feels the temperature grow subtly warmer. At first the change is too small to notice, but the deeper they go, the more hot and humid it becomes, as though the season is changing from autumn back into summer._

_After some time walking, Reynir comes to an abrupt stop, and Lalli nearly collides with him. He shoots the other mage a glare._

_"Why did you stop?"_

_"It just ends here," Reynir says. Lalli peers around him and into the clearing beyond. Sure enough, the wooden path has reached a dead-end, widening into a platform that's broad enough for all three of them to stand side by side. Before them lies a pool of water lilies, so deep he cannot see its bottom. The clearing is empty; nothing seems unusual besides the sweltering heat and the orange-tinged sky. Lalli feels a spark of resentment flare up in his chest._

_"This was a waste of time," he snaps at Reynir. "Emil needs us, and you just sent us down a dead end!"_

_A hand rests itself on Lalli's shoulder, and he spins around to face Onni, who looks at him with stern eyes._

_"Control your emotions, Lalli. There may be more here than we can see at first glance." Onni reaches behind his back and removes his kantele from where it was hung there. He settles into a cross-legged pose in the shallow water, lays the instrument across his lap and plucks at a few of the strings. A clear, ringing sound echoes out from the hollow wood. Ripples radiate outwards from where Onni sits, concentric circles expanding in time with the music. Beneath the notes he plays, Lalli can hear whispered words of a_ runo _for revealing the unseen. The dream space around them appears to shiver in response, a flickering in the air and a tremor in the leaves of the trees._

_Then Lalli sees it, floating in the center of the flooded clearing: a tiny, dancing light, not much larger than a candle flame, suspended above the deep pool of water._

_He reaches out both his hands, and the flame drifts towards them until it rests between his outstretched palms. Despite its tiny size, its warmth floods Lalli with a familiar feeling._

_"Emil," he gasps, staring into the tiny flame. "He's in here. I can feel it."_

_"That's Emil? Oh, no..." Reynir says, peering at the flame. "I don't know very much about this stuff, but that doesn't look good, does it? I can barely even see it."_

_"...Reynir is correct," says Onni begrudgingly. "Emil's soul will not last for much longer in there."_

_"Then how do we get him out?!" Lalli asks, his voice edging on frantic as he cradles the flame close to his chest._

_"It will be dangerous," says Onni. "Entering a disintegrating dream space can spell doom for any mage foolish enough to tread there." He casts an aside glance at Reynir, who bites his own lip with a guilty look, having done exactly that before._

_"I don't care about that. We came here to rescue Emil." Lalli stares at the tiny flame, its flickering light reflected in his silver eyes. "I'm saving him, no matter what."_

_Onni sighs, and plays a few more notes on his Kantele. "I can open the gateway for you. But I will need to remain out here, else it may close and trap you in there, too."_

_Lalli nods, and holds out the flame in his palm. Onni plays a complicated string of notes, cascading up and down the tonal scales, and the candle flame flares up, thrashing, before sprouting a head and wings and taking the form of a tiny bird. The firebird flaps its wings, growing in size until it is an arm's width across, and then there is a tearing sensation inside the dream. Within the outlines of the bird Lalli now sees a dark portal, flames burning around the edges, the other side of it a dense black, darker than a moonless night._

_Lalli leaps through without hesitation, followed shortly by Reynir. Lalli casts an irritated glance behind him, but the red-haired mage simply shrugs._

_"I figured you could use my help finding Emil in here," Reynir says with a hesitant smile._

_Lalli rolls his eyes, but presses onward into the dark. The only light comes through the portal they entered through, which, as Lalli looks backwards, still shows the serene woods and flooded clearing, where Onni sits and plays, kantele music filtering faintly through the gap._

_Lalli mutters a_ runo _and a light sparks to life in his hand, like a tiny bright star. It doesn't do much to banish the shadows because the landscape that surrounds them is itself black, dark enough to eat up nearly all the light he casts. He can only make out vague shapes of gnarled, soot-blackened trees and dessicated wood structures, like the aftermath of a forest fire._

_"Look," Reynir says, pointing. Lalli squints in the direction he indicates until he sees it: a flickering light that dances in the distance, shrouded by the twisting branches of the burnt forest. They set off in that direction, with Reynir in the lead again. It's slow going, the path uneven, and Lalli has to carefully step over fallen logs and dodge sinkholes. At one point, the ground crumbles beneath Reynir's feet, and Lalli has to grab the back of his cloak to prevent him from tumbling into the abyss._

_"...Sorry," Reynir says when they both catch their breath. His green eyes meet Lalli's. "...Thanks."_

_Lalli gives a dismissive huff, and they press onwards. Despite the barren and inhospitable landscape, it seems almost familiar to Lalli. He's been in Emil's dream space enough times by now to recognize the hills and surrounding woods of the estate where Emil's family lived and died. Knowing what he does about Emil's past, then, there can only be one thing that awaits them at the epicenter of the dream._

_As he recalls this, they emerge through a break in the trees and out into plain view of it: the Västerström estate, engulfed in flames. The closer they get, the more strongly Lalli can feel it: Emil's emotions, his grief and shame, radiate out as intensely as the waves of heat. Within the house, at the epicenter of the fire, is a white-hot node of energy: Emil himself._

_Lalli starts towards the estate but feels Reynir's hand on his shoulder again. He spins around, a snarl on his lips, but that falters when he sees genuine worry on the boy's face._

_"You can't go any closer," Reynir says. "It'll burn you."_

_"Emil's in there!" Lalli snaps. "What am I_ supposed _to do?!"_

_"Hang on. I think..." Reynir takes a deep breath. "I think I can freeze the flames. For a little while, anyway."_

_Lalli glances down to Reynir's feet, where white ice crystals are gathering on the black earth. He meets his eyes again and gives a small nod._

_"...But... You'll have to go in there and get him," Reynir says. "And do it quickly, because I don't know how long I can hold it."_

_Lalli nods again. He's ready for this. In some ways, it feels like all his mage training, his experience as a dragon and traveling through the world of dreams, has led to this moment._

_He starts sprinting towards the house without another word. Under his feet, the wave of frost surges forward, clearing a path to the estate. Where it collides with the flame, the ice seems to grow into strange, spiky shapes, encasing the fire in a protective sheath. Impossibly, the fire burns underneath, hungrily melting away at its icy prison. Reynir's protection won't last long._

_His path cleared, Lalli reaches the outside of the mansion. No door presents itself; Emil must have closed himself off to everybody. That just means Lalli will have to create his own door. Shouting a_ runo _over the roar of the flame, a bright glowing light gathers between his hands, which he flings forward, blasting a crater in the side of the burning building. Lalli leaps through, unhindered._

 _Inside, he comes face-to-face with a seething wall of fire. Were it not for the circle of ice magic that surrounds him, he's certain he would be immolated instantly. Instead, he presses on towards the glowing heart of flame in the center of the mansion. He shouts another_ runo _, voice hoarse from the smoke and spent magic._

_For the first time, he hears a questioning echo in response. It's weak, almost a whisper, and yet he recognizes the voice immediately. He homes in on it by instinct, crashing through another burning wall until he reaches the dining room._

_Standing in the center of it all is Emil. But he's... changed, Lalli notices right away. His body appears to be made of fire, with glowing veins of lava that course beneath his skin. His golden hair shimmers around his face like tongues of flame. His eyes flicker blue-white like the bright heart of a bonfire. He looks up in surprise at the sound of the crash, and as soon as he sees Lalli, his eyes go wide._

_"Lalli! What are you-- how did you--"_

_Without hesitation, Lalli crosses the room towards him and reaches for Emil. But he flinches away, a wave of heat lashing out in response, hitting Lalli like a slap across the face._

_"D-don't come any closer," Emil says, and Lalli can see the fear in his eyes. "It's too dangerous for you."_

_Lalli doesn't have the patience for this. "I came to rescue you, stupid! Snap out of it!"_

_"You're -- you really came all this way? For me? But--" He glances aside, a mournful look flashing across his burning-blue eyes. "I thought-- this was supposed to be my fate, just like the rest of my family." A sad smile flickers across his face. "It's for the better, anyway. Everything I touch ends up destroyed eventually. I just didn't want it to happen to you, too."_

_Hearing Emil say these things about himself causes anger to flare up inside Lalli's chest. "That's not true," he growls. "I'm getting you out of here, and that's_ final! _" His voice breaks with the last shout, and a wave of energy radiates outward from him. Around them, cinders rain from the ceiling and the wood creaks, threatening to give way._

_Lalli stretches his arm out towards Emil. "Take my hand."_

_"You'll get burned," Emil protests feebly, moving closer towards Lalli. The circle of protective magic around him shrinks as Emil approaches._

_"I don't care," Lalli looks at him, eye to burning eye. "I need you. Idiot."_

_They're so close, the heat is nearly unbearable, but Lalli leans into it, pressing closer until their hands are mere inches apart._

_At the moment their fingertips touch, there is a resounding CRASH as the inner walls of the mansion begin to crumble and cave in all at once, followed by the roof. The protective bubble of ice magic dissipates, and the entire mansion starts to disintegrate into a formless mass of flame._

_A beat, and then a large, burning shape emerges from the fire, shooting straight upwards like a firework into the black sky, leaving dancing sparks behind. Lalli, in dragon form, sails into the air, flames trailing from the tips of his outstretched wings. Wrapped in the dragon's paws, gripped close to his chest, is Emil's unconscious form._

_The dragon reaches the height of its arc, and then starts to drop. Lalli's wings flake apart into ashy fragments, as his dragon form falls away like burning paper. What remains is his human form, embracing Emil within his arms as the two of them free-fall towards the blackened earth._

_From where he nervously watches, Reynir sees the two humans falling and instantly takes flight himself, leaping into the sky in dragon shape to snatch them from the sky before they can fall back into the pit of flames that was once the Västerström mansion. He banks a hard turn in midair, feeling the last of his magic draining away as he flaps powerful wingbeats towards the tiny, glowing gateway that leads out of the dreamspace._

_As they're hurtling through the air towards the portal, Reynir fears they won't all make it through and squeezes his eyes shut. Then there's a tearing sound, and all three tumble out the other side of the portal, their momentum causing them to crash into Onni with a yelp of surprise. The moment his concentration is broken, the portal closes with a resounding SNAP._

_For a long moment, they all lay there in the shallow water over the boardwalk. Then Onni sits up with a groan, shaking droplets out of his hair, and looks on the other three with a worried expression._

_"Lalli! Lalli, can you hear me? Are you all right?" he asks, frantically shaking his cousin's prone form._

_Lalli gives a shift, and sleepily opens one eye. He then looks down, to where his arms are still wrapped around Emil. After a tense, breathless moment, he sees Emil's chest rise and fall, and breathes a sigh of relief._

_"I'm fine," Lalli says in a near-whisper. He holds Emil close and buries his nose in his golden hair, inhaling the familiar smell. He's done it; Emil is freed from that burning prison, safe within Lalli's arms. "_ We're _fine."_

_Lalli closes his eyes, and the dream fades to white mist._

-*-*-*-

Emil opens his eyes. His vision is blurry, but he thinks he can make out a face framed by silver hair.

"...Lalli?" he asks feebly, in a voice that sounds far away. His vision clears, until he recognizes not Lalli, but Tuuri, kneeling by his bedside. As soon as she sees he's awake, a shining smile of relief washes over her round face, and glittering tears of joy gather at the corners of her eyes.

"You're finally back," she says, her voice cracking. Then she turns and calls out behind her, "Everyone, come quickly! Emil's awake!"

There's a flurry of activity, and more faces swim into view. He sees Onni, in human form, looking slightly less worried than usual; the red-headed boy that he'd seen once in a dream, who used to be the white dragon; and the square-jawed face and lionlike sideburns of Mikkel, which causes a moment of confusion and disorientation; what was _he_ doing there?

Then all the other faces clear out of the way, and suddenly there's just Lalli, crouched over Emil's bedside, staring at him with the same intense silver gaze that captured Emil so long ago.

"Hey," Emil says, reaching up to feebly grasp at Lalli's hand. He finds himself smiling uncontrollably as he drinks in the sharp angles of his face, the light of his eyes, everything. "I dreamed that you saved me."

Lalli blinks owlishly. Then a rare smile curls the corner of his lips, and he squeezes Emil's hand in his, while reaching out with the other hand to run fingers through Emil's hair.

"Stupid Emil," he says, voice softer than Emil's ever heard it before. He leans in closer, so that their faces are inches apart. " _You_ saved _me_."

Emil closes his eyes and kisses him, dizzy with joyous disbelief that they are both alive, and safe, and together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The journey reaches its conclusion. Thank you for travelling with me.  
> Epilogue will be uploaded next week.


	16. Epilogue

(Excerpt from Tuuri's Journal)

**Mud Moon - Day 15**

_Can't write long - wanted to record something of today though._

_We escaped the Army. Some sort of dark magic spell trapped Onni in his human form. I broke the others out with Reynir's help (will write more on him when I have time). Emil stayed behind to rescue Lalli._

_While flying away from Keuruu, something happened and the spell on Onni lifted. He insisted we go back for Lalli. Using his fire breath, he drove monsters into the camp to create a distraction while Reynir and I went to rescue Lalli and Emil. Saw that massive giant again. Where did it come from?_

_Emil got stabbed. It's bad. He was nearly out cold with blood loss by the time we reached him. I wasn't even sure he'd survive the trip, but we made it back to the cave somehow. Lalli's injured too. Need to treat both of them._

_I just hope it's enough..._

 

**Mud Moon - Day 17**

_Lalli told me what Emil did to rescue him and I think I understand better now._

_The Army's Commander must be some type of sorcerer. They use blood magic to bind dragons and enslave them to do the Army's bidding. It's what they did to Reynir, although I managed to break that spell when I woke up Reynir inside of his dream. Lalli says they were planning to do the same thing to him in order to turn him into a weapon. Thank the Gods Emil was there! He stood up to the Commander AND his former Captain to save Lalli's life. Lalli says there was some kind of dagger that the Commander was using to work the spell. When Emil broke it with his sword, it released Lalli from his binding and let him shift into a dragon again._

_I think that was around the same time the spell on Onni broke as well. I guess it was the same spell? I really need to do some more research into foreign magic, but I don't know where I'll find any information on that sort of thing here in Suomi._

_Emil's not any worse, but he's not getting much better, either. I managed to clean the wounds and stop the bleeding, but he still won't wake up and has an awful fever. ~~If he doesn't survive~~ He'll survive. I know he will. If he's strong enough to stand up against a whole army, he can get through this. _

 

**Mud Moon - Day 25**

_We got a new visitor in the cave._

_I wasn't expecting anybody -- frankly, none of us were. This place is on top of a mountain! But it was Mikkel, and he even brought Kitty with him from Keuruu. I suppose Mikkel is a deserter now too, just like the rest of us._

_Onni was distrustful of newcomers as always but I knew he meant no harm. For as long as I've known Mikkel he's never hurt another person (other than gastronomically). He says he had a dream that told him he needed to go here. Between that and Lalli's non-stop praying, it can only mean one thing: the Gods must have sent him. He's a foreigner, so I don't know what he believes, but he seems to take dream visions seriously enough, which is good._

_He's offered to help me with treating Emil's injury. Thank the Gods, because I'm in over my head. He made a strange kind of medicine and fed it to Emil._

_I don't think Lalli trusts him though. He wants to try working a spell, a complicated one by the sound of it, to heal Emil. Onni was resistant at first but Reynir talked him around to it, and now all three dragons are going to be casting it together. I hope it works... although Onni warned that it could go horribly wrong._

 

**Mud Moon - Day 26**

_After they were done working the healing spell, the dragons suddenly shifted into human form. All of them, including Onni. They were all fast asleep and wouldn't wake up even after I poked them in the cheek. They're all still breathing though, but that doesn't keep me from worrying like crazy. Onni did say that if the healing went poorly, they could possibly die in the process. What if they don't wake up? What will I ever do without them?_

_At least Emil seems a little better, or maybe it's just my imagination. Does that mean the healing spell worked? There's a bit more color in his cheeks and his breathing seems steadier. Mikkel has been taking care of him and giving him some strange medicine. I don't know how effective it will be, but he seems to know what he's doing, and Emil certainly isn't getting worse._

_UPDATE: Onni woke up! He said the spell was a success but they all need to recharge now. Then he went back to sleep. It's like a big weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Think I'll get some rest too._

 

**Soul Moon - Day 2**

_Emil opened his eyes! I almost couldn't believe it. The spell worked and Emil is alive! It's either that, or Mikkel's mold medicine that helped. But I know magic is real, so it's more likely that. Not that Mikkel hasn't been a big help... neither Onni or Reynir knows how to cook. And Lalli is too busy doting on Emil. Useless men._

_There were some unintended side effects of the healing spell, though. Onni, Reynir and Lalli are stuck in their human forms for now. Onni says it's a result of expending so much magic, that they can't muster up the energy to change back into dragons. All their magic was transferred into Emil. I wonder if there will be any long-term effects for him? He's no mage, just like me, but having that much magic pumped inside of you might have some lingering effects. I'll have to watch him closely over the next couple of weeks._

_Lalli seems exhausted, but happy to have Emil back. I swear, seeing him all mushy hasn't gotten any less weird. I didn't even know that side of him existed before all this._

 

**Soul Moon - Day 7**

_I keep wondering what's happened back at Keuruu._

_I think that place is doomed. Lalli seems to believe as much. It's been destroyed three times this year. Hard to believe I lived there for so many years, not knowing the truth. I would have stayed ignorant, unknowingly furthering the extinction of my own family, if Onni hadn't come for me..._

_I wonder what's left in the aftermath of the last monster attack. The dark creatures aren't known for their mercy. The last time they attacked, I only survived because of Onni. They may have had a battalion of soldiers, but I'm pretty sure the monsters outnumbered them all the same._

_I think the forest could sense what the soldiers were planning to do with the Cleansing. It's strange to think of these dark creatures as a part of nature, but I suppose they are a part of the balance of things. The Army disrupted that balance, so the forest was lashing out in its own way.  Maybe that's why the Black Giant showed up again._

_Seems like the burning has stopped, at least. There's no more smoke on the wind, even when it blows from the southeast. It just smells like iron and decaying leaves._

_When the dragons have recovered, I'm sure they'll want to fly over there to scout out the Army's movements. It's probably a lot safer now that Reynir's on our side._

_Could we really have managed to avert the Rash of Death?_

-*-*-*-

Emil's convalescence takes another full month. The days pass by slow and quiet, and this unhurried pace is a relief to Emil and everybody after their prolonged brush with death. The last warm days of autumn flicker in between the biting, cold wind that signals the coming frost. The days shorten, with every sunset seeming to arrive earlier than the last. Warmth and daylight trickle away as the forest prepares itself for the long hibernation of the harsh winter.

The interior of the cave, which is roomier than usual due to all three dragons' temporary stay in human form, nevertheless feels crowded by three humans, three mages and a cat. It's also not the warmest at night, being on the peak of a mountain, and with the wide-open cave entrance, even the heat of the fire escapes into the frigid air outside. Onni begins dropping hints, subtle and not-so-subtle that he would like some of the others to leave. Tuuri, surprisingly, agrees with him.

"I think we should start looking for other settlements that might accept us," Tuuri says. "There have got to be communities of _suomalaiset_ that haven't been exterminated or joined forces with the Army yet. Maybe there are even other dragons out there, hiding in secret!"

Onni grumbles that _he's_ perfectly fine living alone on the mountaintop. He speaks only _suomi_ as a human, his voice gravel-rough from disuse. Emil can only understand a word here or there with what scant knowledge of the language he's been picking up from Tuuri and Lalli, but Onni is a man of few words anyway, and his pessimistic grumblings are easy enough to parse.

"Onni, I know you spent the last decade as a dragon, but it's time for you to admit that you're human, too," Tuuri replies. "Some social interaction will do you good, I think. Ten years is a long time to spend alone on top of a mountain, without a sauna, or--" she sniffs, "--a bath, even. Won't you at least try?"

Onni grumbles, but his frown appears a little softer, as though something of what Tuuri said has gotten through to him.

From the corner of the cave, Reynir pipes up, his voice sounding hesitant. "Um, if you guys are talking about leaving..." He's clutching at his braid and looking aside nervously. "...There's something which has been on my mind for a while."

"Hm? What's that?" Tuuri asks.

"Well..." he runs a hand through his fiery mane of red hair. "It's not that I'm not super grateful to you guys for rescuing me, and I do want to help you out with your rebellion and all... but..."

"Say it already," mutters Lalli. Reynir flinches, then nods and takes a deep breath.

"I... don't know what happened to my parents, or my home village. It's been at least half a decade since the Army took me from ĺsland. I need to find out if they're still there, and if they are, I need to let them know that I'm alive." He holds out his hand and stares at his palm, flexing his fingers open and closed. "I think I can fly there as a dragon, only I don't know the way..."

Tuuri perks up at that, a bright, expectant look flashing in her eyes.

"It sounds like you need a guide," she says. "Someone that can read maps, and translate languages for you, and knows how to navigate."

"Yeah, but..." Reynir hangs his head. "Where would I even find someone like that?"

Tuuri crosses her arms, puffs out her cheeks and taps her foot impatiently. When Reynir doesn't seem to get it, she gives a loud sigh and points to her own chest. "I meant _me_ , Reynir. I'll help you get to ĺsland! I'm great at reading maps and translating languages. And I've always dreamed of seeing the outside world!"

Onni roars to his feet, which is far less imposing in his human form than when he is a dragon, although he still manages to look quite large in his moose-fur cloak. "You? Leave Suomi? Under no circumstances. It's too dangerous! You'd be walking right into the Scanian Empire's clutches!"

Tuuri seems undaunted by Onni's naysaying, and bats her hand at him. "I knew you'd say that," she tells him. "But think of all the things I could learn, in the lands beyond! I bet there's hundreds of books and scrolls out there that contain more knowledge than we could possibly imagine. And if there aren't, then I could write one!" She has that glitter in her eye that always shows up whenever she's talking about dragonlore. 

Emil glances between the two siblings -- and now that Onni is human, the family resemblance is undeniable. They have the same noses and messy ashen hair, the same stormy grey eyes. Tuuri stands resolute, meeting Onni's eyes with her own despite their difference in heights.

"You must have no sense at all, if you think that you and Reynir can just travel alone into an unknown country that's occupied by the enemy. Reynir may be a dragon, but he's just a pup. His inexperience is liable to get both of you killed."

Tuuri's eyes flash, and a clever smile curls her lip. "Who said we were going alone?" She casts a look over her shoulder to where Lalli and Emil are sitting down. "Lalli and Emil are coming, too."

"Hey, hey, hold on--" Emil splutters. "When did _we_ become a part of this?"

Tuuri looks over at Lalli, whose silver eyes are fixed on her. He hadn't really been paying attention before but perked up at the sound of his name, and is looking at her with curiosity.

"I think Lalli is more than capable of handling whatever the outside world wants to throw at us. And before we reach ĺsland, we'll need to pass through Scania first, which is where Emil grew up. It's perfect!"

There's a funny feeling at the pit of Emil's stomach when it comes to the thought of returning to the place where he grew up. He hadn't even considered it before. It was almost too outlandish to contemplate.

There's the sound of a throat clearing, and all heads turn towards Mikkel, who is seated in the corner of the cave with Kitty curled up on his lap. "If I may make a suggestion," he says in his familiar deep voice. "If you're planning a voyage into other lands, it will be especially difficult to travel during the coming months due to the winter weather."

"What the lion-faced human says is true," growls Onni. "If you are planning to throw yourself and your friends at the mercy of a winter's storm, you are clearly not prepared for such a journey."

"You're right," agrees Tuuri, which catches Onni off-guard. "It would be silly to try and cross all of Scania during the winter."

After a moment of being perplexed, Onni nods. "Good. Seems you've finally seen sense."

"So that's why we'll go in the spring."

Onni splutters, coughs, and tries to stutter out another objection, but Tuuri is not listening anymore; she's writing in her journal.

"...We'll need supplies, and current maps of the region, and time to plot a route," Tuuri mutters, mostly to herself. "I'll need to make another dragon harness for Reynir, and maybe find someone that can teach me to speak _norsk_ ... not to mention all the stuff we have left to do here in Suomi." She closes her journal with a _snap_. "We've got a lot of work to do! No use wasting time."

Reynir bounces to his feet. "Yeah! This is really exciting. I've never travelled with friends before. Or, well, I must have travelled when they took me, but I don't remember very much, and anyway, they definitely _weren't_ my friends..." he trails off, and stares at his hands again. "...Although, I'll need to get my dragon form back first. As cool as having thumbs is, I'd really like to fly again."

A spark dances behind Tuuri's eyes. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that... I'm sure you'll get your dragon form back soon, Reynir."

"How do you know that?"

"I figured it out," Tuuri says, and points towards Emil and Lalli, "by watching them."

"Us?" Emil asks, incredulous. He looks up at Lalli, who appears similarly confused.

"Yeah. Hold on, let me show you what I found," Tuuri says, before she reaches into a nearby pile of books and scrolls and pulls out a familiar leather-bound tome. She opens it, paging through the heavy parchment until she finds the page she was looking for, which she holds out for the rest of them to see.

It's an illustration Emil has seen before, illuminated in gold leaf. In the foreground of the picture stands a human, their features androgynous, with their eyes and hands glowing with powerful magic. Behind them stands a silhouette of a dragon, its wings spread wide. Tuuri traces a finger down the lines of ancient _suomi_ inscribed beside the drawing.

"This page talks about a mage's _focus_ , the source of their power which allows them to change into dragon shape," Tuuri says. "The first time I saw this, I thought the picture showed a mage transforming into a dragon. But this word," she points to an illegible scribble, "is plural. Which means that it's not just one person. The picture actually shows two people in it: a dragon and a human!"

She speaks rapidly in her excitement, and Emil is fondly reminded of the day they met, her unstoppable exuberance made an impression on him, bedraggled and milk-soaked as he was back then. But Emil still barely understands any of the things she's just said.

"...Sorry, I don't get it. What difference does it make if there's two people instead of one?"

"It changes _everything_ !" Tuuri replies. "It turns out, that was the key to discovering what a focus really is. At first, I thought it was some kind of magical object, or maybe a place. But none of that made sense, given how Lalli changes back and forth without needing any of those things. Then I made this discovery about this picture, and I was watching how you two interact, and that's when I realized. A mage's focus is a _person_ ." She looks at Lalli and Emil meaningfully. "It's _you_ , Emil. You are the source of Lalli's magic."

"M-me?!" Emil splutters, and looks to Lalli. There's a fluttering in his chest, even despite the fact that he doesn't fully understand what Tuuri is saying. But when he catches Lalli's silver cat eyes and holds his gaze, it's like he can feel it: a warm, unbroken thread of pure light, stretching between them and connecting them at their core.

"That's nice and all, but what does that have to do with me?" asks Reynir. "Do I have a focus, too?"

"Well..." Tuuri smiles coyly as she shuts her book. "From what I can understand, a mage's bond with their focus manifests itself within the world of dreams, so..."

"But the only one showing up in my dreams has been you," Reynir says. A beat, before his eyes widen and he appears to realize. A wide grin breaks across his face, and moments later he's wrapping his long, lanky arms around Tuuri, lifting her feet up off the ground. "Tuuri, I knew it! I knew there was a reason you were in my dream space. We're connected!"

Tuuri laughs, high-pitched and cheerful, her face pressed against Reynir's chest. He spins her around once before setting her down gently. A slight blush colors her face while she stutters and tries to collect herself.

"S-so, that's why I think you'll get your dragon shape back soon..." 

From his corner of the cave, Onni watches with narrowed eyes. But he doesn't seem all that upset at hearing of his sister's magical entanglement with the ice dragon. If anything he seems... pleased?

Tuuri clears her throat and turns to face Emil and Lalli again. "A mage's strength depends on the strength of their bond with their focus," she says. "And given how many times you both have almost died saving each other, I think it's fair to say that your bond is quite powerful." She looks to Lalli. "I think that Lalli could take dragon form now, if he wanted to."

Lalli and Emil look at each other, and Lalli inclines his head towards the exit of the cave. "Outside," he says.

"We'll just be a minute," Emil tells the others as he allows himself to be led out of the cave, fingers intertwined with Lalli's.

Out on the plateau, the wind whistles up the side of the mountain and plays through Lalli's hair, but the warm light of one of the last sunny days of autumn keeps the temperature bearable.

Emil inhales the crisp air, breathes it out shakily. "All that stuff Tuuri was saying," he says. "About... Going on a journey. Is that... what you want? To leave Suomi?"

Lalli looks at him, his expression complex, searching. In all the time Emil spends contemplating Lalli's face, the angular curve of his cheekbones and the many glints in his eyes, he thinks he will never fully be able to understand the subtle emotions that play across his expression, changing with each passing moment.

Then Lalli kisses him, and this Emil _does_ understand. The insistent way he presses his body up in Emil's personal space; the way he curls his fingers possessively in the fine golden hairs on the back of Emil's neck; the small, needy gasps of breath he makes, secret only to the two of them. Lalli kisses him as though Emil could fade away at any moment, so he wants to claim him, to sink hooks in so that he can never disappear again.

Emil loves this, loves holding Lalli like this. He's like a fire, but _more_ : more complex, more beautiful, more powerful. And he's all Emil's. All of him.

They pull apart, but remain close enough that their rapid breaths intermingle.

"Doesn't matter," Lalli says simply in answer to Emil's question. "Where you go, I go too."

Emil sees blue sparks dancing in Lalli's eyes. His magic is practically manifest, running just beneath his skin as though on the verge of spilling out of him.

"You ready?" Emil asks. Lalli nods.

Sometimes the shift happens in an instant, but this time it feels like the magic takes its time, glittering across Lalli's skin, shimmering in the air, cascading down his spine like a thousand stars gone supernova. Shining silver wings extend outwards above his shoulders and flare out into the breeze. Sapphire blue dragon eyes burn in between the dancing lights, which dissipate as the transformation completes. Lalli stands there as the silver dragon, changed yet still the same, still watching Emil with those intense catlike eyes.

Emil reaches up and strokes a hand along the soft fur on Lalli's neck, and the dragon responds with a rumbling purr. He seems stronger than ever before, with powerful muscles shifting beneath sleek silver fur, which shimmers as the wind gently disturbs it. The reddish runes on his back hum with magical energy. Lalli bumps his furry head up against Emil's, pressing their foreheads together. Emil can feel the waves of heat radiating off him.

Then the dragon uncurls his neck and looks skyward. The sun hangs lower in the sky, but there is still daylight enough to illuminate the entire valley below. He looks over to Emil again.

[[ COME FLY WITH ME, ]] he says.

Emil's heart stutters in his chest, one part fear and two parts excitement. He hasn't forgotten the last time they flew together, under far more desperate circumstances. How terrifying yet thrilling it felt to have such unrestricted freedom, with nothing but the wind beneath you.

Lalli is looking to him expectantly. Emil nods, and the dragon lowers his wing to allow Emil to climb onto his back.

There's no harness this time, so Emil secures himself by throwing his arms around the base of Lalli's thick neck, grabbing two fistfuls of silver fur. Heat radiates off him, which reminds Emil of comfort, of safety, of home.

Then Lalli begins to walk towards the ledge, and thoughts of comfort and safety fly from Emil's mind as the sudden movement jostles him from his position. He readjusts his grip, holding on as tightly as he can to Lalli with his arms and knees.

He knows that Lalli won't drop him. He isn't as sure that he can trust himself to not let go.

The dragon's walk turns into a run, paws pounding on rock and wings beating powerfully up and down, and moments later they're airborne. Emil squeezes his eyes shut as they sail over the ledge of the plateau and down off the top of the mountain, but quickly opens them after that to drink in the sight of the world from atop the back of a dragon.

The land spread beneath them is dark, dangerous and full of mysteries, growing ever colder in the onset of winter. The cold wind whips through his golden hair, and frosty air batters his face. But the chill has no effect on him -- Emil feels as warm a roaring hearth. He presses his ear into the fur on Lalli's back and listens to the beating of the dragon's heart.

Here in the sky with Lalli, a new fire kindles itself within Emil's chest. It's a flame as bright and beautiful as he could ever have dreamed, one that will outlast the coming cold and storm, its light shining through even the darkest night.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally at the end. Thank you for reading and to everybody who left comments and words of encouragement while this story was ongoing. Your support was so crucial, and the comments really made my day each time a new one appeared in my inbox. Special thanks to Kiraly and wavewright for offering preliminary feedback and encouragement in the early stages of this fic.
> 
> I started writing this fic in April after discovering SSSS and falling in love with its characters, world and story. When I saw the [Dragon AU illustration](https://sssscomic.com/mainimages/art/dragon_hunt.jpg) by Minna, I knew I wanted to explore more of that universe, as well as make a tribute to this stunning (and frankly underrated) webcomic. I don't think I expected it to get this long or complex (my initial wordcount estimate was around 40k...) but I really enjoyed writing this. Hopefully you had fun reading, too!
> 
> As for what comes next, I have a new ( _much_ shorter) AU fic that'll be published in a few weeks... and after that, who knows? I'm definitely not done writing for this fandom or this pair yet, so we shall see what the new year brings :)
> 
> In the meantime, I have an SSSS-focused tumblr you can follow for fanart and other fannish ramblings:  
> sentinelmage.tumblr.com
> 
> Lastly, here's a gallery of all the character art I created for this fic, including this chapter's final illustration and a bonus pixelart of Lalli and Emil:  
> [Art Gallery](https://imgur.com/a/pZeQs9Z)


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